In all my wanderings through this world of care,In all my griefs — and God has given my share –I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown,Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;To husband out life’s taper at the close,And keep the flame from wasting, by repose:I still had hopes, for pride attends us still,Amidst the swains to show my book-learn’d skill,Around my fire an evening group to draw,And tell of all I felt, and all I saw;And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue,Pants to the place from whence at first she flew,I still had hopes, my long vexations past,Here to return — and die at home at last.

In all my wanderings through this world of care,In all my griefs — and God has given my share –I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown,Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;To husband out life’s taper at the close,And keep the flame from wasting, by repose:I still had hopes, for pride attends us still,Amidst the swains to show my book-learn’d skill,Around my fire an evening group to draw,And tell of all I felt, and all I saw;And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue,Pants to the place from whence at first she flew,I still had hopes, my long vexations past,Here to return — and die at home at last.

– Oliver Goldsmith –

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