Sir Edward Dyer (1543–1607) | English
My mind to me a kingdom is;
Such present joys therein I find
That it excels all other bliss
That earth affords or grows by kind.1
Though much I want2 which most would have,
Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
No princely pomp, no wealthy store,
No force to win the victory,
No wily wit to salve a sore,
No shape to feed a loving eye;
To none of these I yield as thrall.
For why my mind doth serve for all.
I see how plenty suffers oft,
And hasty climbers soon do fall;
I see that those which are aloft
Mishap doth threaten most of all;
They get with tail, they keep with fear.
Such cares my mind could never bear.
Content I live, this is my stay;
I seek no more than may suffice;
I press to bear no haughty sway;
Look, what I lack my mind supplies;
Lo, thus I triumph like a king,
Content with that my mind doth brin
Some have too much, yet still do crave;
I little have, and seek no more.
They are but poor, though much they have
,
And I am rich with little store;
They poor, I rich; they beg, I give;
They lack, I leave; they pine, I live.