Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
In the Downhill of Life
A bridge to the Romantic era
William Collins
- In the downhill of life, when I find I’m declining,
- May my lot no less fortunate be
- Than a snug elbow-chair can afford for reclining,
- And a cot that o’erlooks the wide sea;
- With an ambling pad-pony to pace o’er the lawn,
- While I carol away idle sorrow,
- And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn
- Look forward with hope for tomorrow.
- With a porch at my door, both for shelter and shade too,
- As the sunshine or rain may prevail;
- And a small spot of ground for the use of the spade too,
- With a barn for the use of the flail;
- A cow for my dairy, a dog for my game,
- And a purse when a friend wants to borrow;
- I’ll envy no Nabob his riches or fame,
- Nor what honours may wait him tomorrow.
- From the bleak northern blast may my cot be completely
- Secured by a neighbouring hill;
- And at night may repose steal upon me more sweetly
- By the sound of a murmuring rill;
- And while peace and plenty I find at my board,
- With a heart free from sickness and sorrow,
- With my friends may I share what today may afford,
- And let them spread the table tomorrow.
- And when I at last must throw off this frail cov’ring
- Which I’ve worn for threescore years and ten,
- On the brink of the grave I’ll not seek to keep hov’ring,
- Nor my thread wish to spin o’er again;
- But my face in the glass I’ll serenely survey,
- And with smiles count each wrinkle and furrow;
- As this old worn-out stuff, which is threadbare today,
- May become everlasting tomorrow.
William Collins (1721–1759) was an English poet whose influence was only second to Thomas Gray (1716–1771) as a poet of the middle decades of the 18th Century. Emotive and wistful in their expression, his lyrical odes mark a distinct departure from the Augustan poets of the previous generation — Alexander Pope and Michael Dryden foremost. Because his work is of florid and effusive sentiments, Collins is often seen, like William Blake, as a bridge to the Romantic era which would follow his generation’s output.
Here's something you might be interested in.
In the Downhill of Life
A bridge to the Romantic era
In the Downhill of Life
A bridge to the Romantic era
William Collins
- In the downhill of life, when I find I’m declining,
- May my lot no less fortunate be
- Than a snug elbow-chair can afford for reclining,
- And a cot that o’erlooks the wide sea;
- With an ambling pad-pony to pace o’er the lawn,
- While I carol away idle sorrow,
- And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn
- Look forward with hope for tomorrow.
- With a porch at my door, both for shelter and shade too,
- As the sunshine or rain may prevail;
- And a small spot of ground for the use of the spade too,
- With a barn for the use of the flail;
- A cow for my dairy, a dog for my game,
- And a purse when a friend wants to borrow;
- I’ll envy no Nabob his riches or fame,
- Nor what honours may wait him tomorrow.
- From the bleak northern blast may my cot be completely
- Secured by a neighbouring hill;
- And at night may repose steal upon me more sweetly
- By the sound of a murmuring rill;
- And while peace and plenty I find at my board,
- With a heart free from sickness and sorrow,
- With my friends may I share what today may afford,
- And let them spread the table tomorrow.
- And when I at last must throw off this frail cov’ring
- Which I’ve worn for threescore years and ten,
- On the brink of the grave I’ll not seek to keep hov’ring,
- Nor my thread wish to spin o’er again;
- But my face in the glass I’ll serenely survey,
- And with smiles count each wrinkle and furrow;
- As this old worn-out stuff, which is threadbare today,
- May become everlasting tomorrow.
William Collins (1721–1759) was an English poet whose influence was only second to Thomas Gray (1716–1771) as a poet of the middle decades of the 18th Century. Emotive and wistful in their expression, his lyrical odes mark a distinct departure from the Augustan poets of the previous generation — Alexander Pope and Michael Dryden foremost. Because his work is of florid and effusive sentiments, Collins is often seen, like William Blake, as a bridge to the Romantic era which would follow his generation’s output.
Comments