William Creech

A Receipt For Happiness

Traverse the world, and fly from pole to pole!
Go far as winds can blow, or waters roll!
Lo! all is vanity beneath this sun,
To silent death through heedless paths we run.

See the pale miser poring o’er his gold!
See the false patriot who his country sold!
Ambition’s vot’ry groans beneath the weight,
A splendid victim to the toils of state.

Ev’n in the mantling bowl sweet poisons flow;
And Love’s pursuits oft terminate in woe;
Proud Learning ends her great career in doubt,
And, puzzled still, makes nothing clearly out.

Where then is earthly bliss? Where does it grow?
Know, mortal, happiness dwells not below!
Look up to Heaven! — be heaven thy darling care;
Spurn the vile earth, and seek thy treasure there;

Nothing but God, — and God alone you’ll find,
Can fill a boundless, and immortal mind!