Travel these days, even for humanitarian reasons, requires that we submit to periods of enforced tests and isolation in order to conform to the legal requirements and protocols of the ongoing pandemic. This is my re-worked version of Pope's delightful 'Ode on Solitude', supposedly written when he was only 12 years old. I bought this small battered leather volume in the photos from the labyrinthine Carnforth second hand book shop on a recent visit to Lancashire.
ODE ON SOLITUDE.
Happy the
one content to care
For his small
plot of land, breathing
Mindfully
on well-trod ground.
In winter
warm, in summer cool,
Whose
clothes and shelter,
Food and
drink, are easily found.
Healthy
body, healthy mind,
In peace
and quiet, watching
Each moment
pass contentedly.
Read and
rest, work and play,
He meditates
on his clean slate,
By day, sleeps well at night.
Living anonymous,
dying alone,
Unknown,
leaving no trace, returns.
Circle, point, infinity.
No comments:
Post a Comment