Classic Poem

II.
The man of life upright,
Whose chearfull minde is free
From waight of impious deedes,
And yoake of vanitee,

The man whose silent dayes
In harmelesse joyes are spent:
Whom hopes cannot delude,
Nor sorrowes discontent,

That man needes neyther towres,
Nor armour for defence:
Nor vaults his guilt to shrowd
From thunders violence;

Hee onely can behold
With unaffrighted eyes
The horrors of the deepe,
And terrors of the Skies.

Thus, scorning all the cares
That fate or fortune brings,
His Booke the Heav'ns hee makes,
His wisedome heav'nly things.

Good thoughts his surest friends,
His wealth a well-spent age,
The earth his sober Inne,
And quiet pilgrimage.