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Poem by Eugene Field


Contentment


Happy the man that, when his day is done,
  Lies down to sleep with nothing of regret
The battle he has fought may not be won
  The fame he sought be just as fleeting yet;
Folding at last his hands upon his breast,
  Happy is he, if hoary and forespent,
He sinks into the last, eternal rest,
  Breathing these only works: "I am content."

But happier he, that, while his blood is warm,
  See hopes and friendships dead about him lie
Bares his brave breast to envy's bitter storm,
  Nor shuns the poison barbs of calumny;
And 'mid it all, stands sturdy and elate,
  Girt only in the armor God hath meant
For him who 'neath the buffetings of fate
  Can say to God and man: "I am content."



Eugene Field


Eugene Field's other poems:
  1. Abu Midjan
  2. Mother and Sphinx
  3. By My Sweetheart
  4. With Two Spoons for Two Spoons
  5. Guess


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • William Cowper Contentment ("Fierce passions discompose the mind")
  • Oliver Holmes Contentment ("Little I ask; my wants are few")
  • Ella Wilcox Contentment ("If any line that I ever penned")
  • Joseph Warton Contentment ("Farewel, aspiring thoughts, no more")

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