The religious man
may have a questionable retirement plan
his devout faith in God
O, let me be alone a while,
No human form is nigh.
And may I sing and muse aloud,
No mortal ear is by.
Fresh fields and woods! the Earth's fair face,
God's foot-stool, and man's dwelling-place.
I ask not why the first Believer
Did love to be a country liver?
Retire man, so what!
’Tis just a natural thing
That many tend to do.
Low was our pretty Cot : our tallest Rose
Peep'd at the chamber-window. We could hear
At silent noon, and eve, and early morn,
The Sea's faint murmur. In the open air
My gentle friend! I hold no creed so false
As that which dares to teach that we are born
For battle only, and that in this life
The soul, if it would burn with starlike power,
Retirement is the end of work,
That's what some seem to say,
But I have talked to many more,
Who say it's not that way.
After thirty years the day of decision has come
It is time to consider quitting and reducing stress
You fear you will be bored and have the doldrums
Time to slow the rapid pace and go out for recess.
From the dire monument of thy black roome,
Wher now that vestal flame thou dost intombe,
As in the inmost cell of all earths wombe.