He calls his wish, it comes; he sends it back,
And says he called another; that arrives,
read more

He calls his wish, it comes; he sends it back,
And says he called another; that arrives,
Meets the same welcome; yet he still calls on;
Till one calls him, who varies not his call,
But holds him fast, in chains of darkness bound,
Till Nature dies, and judgment sets him free;
A freedom far less welcome than this chain.

What most we wish, with ease we fancy near.

What most we wish, with ease we fancy near.

You have wished it so, you have wished it so, George Dandin, you
have wished it so.
[Fr., read more

You have wished it so, you have wished it so, George Dandin, you
have wished it so.
[Fr., Vous l'avez voulu, vous l'avez voulu, George Dandin, vous
l'avez voulu.]

Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long.

Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long.

My wish isn't to mean everything to everyone but something to someone.

My wish isn't to mean everything to everyone but something to someone.

Wishing, of all employments is the worst.

Wishing, of all employments is the worst.

I've often wished that I had clear,
For life, six hundred pounds a year,
A handsome house read more

I've often wished that I had clear,
For life, six hundred pounds a year,
A handsome house to lodge a friend,
A river at my garden's end,
A terrace walk, and half a rood
Of land, set out to plant a wood.

Of all complexions the culled sovereignty
Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek,
Where read more

Of all complexions the culled sovereignty
Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek,
Where several worthies make one dignity,
Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek.

If I live to grow old, as I find I go down,
Let this be my fate in a read more

If I live to grow old, as I find I go down,
Let this be my fate in a country town;
May I have a warm house, with a stone at my gate,
And a cleanly young girl to rub my bald pate.
May I govern my passions with an absolute sway,
Grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
- Walter Pope, The Old Man's Wish,