C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
John Quincy Adams (17671848)
The Wants of Man
“M
Nor wants that little long.”
’Tis not, with me exactly so—
But ’tis so in the song.
My wants are many, and if told,
Would muster many a score;
And were each wish a mint of gold,
I still should long for more.
And canvas-backs and wine;
And all the realms of nature spread
Before me when I dine;—
Four courses scarcely can provide
My appetite to quell,
With four choice cooks from France beside,
To dress my dinner well.
Is elegant attire:
Black sable furs for winter’s frost,
And silks for summer’s fire,
And cashmere shawls and Brussels lace
My bosom’s front to deck;
And diamond rings my hands to grace,
And rubies for my neck.
A dwelling-house, in style,
Four stories high for wholesome air,—
A massive marble pile:
With halls for banquets and for balls,
All furnished rich and fine;
With stabled studs in fifty stalls,
And cellars for my wine.
My dwelling to surround;
A thousand acres (bless the mark),
With walls encompassed round,
Where flocks may range and herds may low,
And kids and lambkins play,
And flowers and fruits commingled grow
All Eden to display.
And autumn strips the trees,
A house within the city’s walls
For comfort and for ease;—
But here, as space is somewhat scant
And acres rather rare,
My house in town I only want
To occupy—a square.
A coachman, footman, grooms,
A library of well-bound books,
And picture-garnished rooms—
Correggio’s ‘Magdalen’ and ‘Night,’
The ‘Matron of the Chair,’
Guido’s fleet coursers in their flight,
And Claudes at least a pair.
Of medals, coins, and gems;
A printing-press for private use
Of fifty thousand ems;
And plants and minerals and shells,
Worms, insects, fishes, birds,
And every beast on earth that dwells,
In solitude or herds.
Of silver and of gold,
Tureens of twenty pounds in weight
With sculpture’s richest mold;
Plateaus with chandeliers and lamps,
Plates, dishes all the same;
And porcelain vases with the stamps
Of Sèvres or Angoulême.
Must form my chamber doors,
And carpets of the Wilton grain
Must cover all my floors.
My walls, with tapestry bedecked,
Must never be outdone;
And damask curtains must protect
Their colors from the sun.
From Venice must be brought;
And sandal-wood and bamboo-cane
For chairs and tables bought;
On all the mantelpieces, clocks
Of thrice-gilt bronze must stand,
And screens of ebony and box
Invite the stranger’s hand.
Affectionate and fair;
To solace all the woes of life,
And all its joys to share;
Of temper sweet, of yielding will,
Of firm yet placid mind;
With all my faults to love me still
With sentiment refined.
And Fortune fills my store,
I want of daughters and of sons
From eight to half a score.
I want (alas! can mortal dare
Such bliss on earth to crave?)
That all the girls be chaste and fair,
The boys all wise and brave.
With melody divine,
A pedal harp of many strings
Must with her voice combine.
A piano, exquisitely wrought,
Must open stand, apart,
That all my daughters may be taught
To win the stranger’s heart.
Refreshment from perfumes,
Cosmetic for the skin require
And artificial blooms.
The civet, fragrance shall dispense
And treasured sweets return;
Cologne revive the flagging sense,
And smoking amber burn.
Begins to droop and doze,
A southern chamber holds my bed
For nature’s soft repose;
With blankets, counterpanes, and sheet,
Mattress and bed of down,
And comfortables for my feet,
And pillows for my crown.
To cheer the adverse hour,
Who ne’er to flatter will descend,
Nor bend the knee to power—
A friend to chide me when I’m wrong,
My inmost soul to see;
And that my friendship prove as strong
For him as his for me.
For others’ wants to feel;
A soul secure from Fortune’s dart,
And bosom armed with steel
To bear divine chastisement’s rod;
And mingling in my plan,
Submission to the will of God
With charity to man.
An ever listening ear,
The truth through all disguise to spy,
And wisdom’s voice to hear;
A tongue to speak at virtue’s need,
In Heaven’s sublimest strain;
And lips, the cause of man to plead,
And never plead in vain.
Throughout my long career;
And streams of never-failing wealth
To scatter far and near,
The destitute to clothe and feed,
Free bounty to bestow,
Supply the helpless orphan’s need,
And soothe the widow’s woe.
The talents to unfold
Designs, the vicious to retrieve,
The virtuous to uphold;
Inventive power, combining skill;
A persevering soul,
Of human hearts to mold the will
And reach from pole to pole.
The ensigns of command,
Charged by the people’s unbought grace,
To rule my native land:
Nor crown nor sceptre would I ask,
But from my country’s will,
By day, by night, to ply the task
Her cup of bliss to fill.
To follow me behind;
And to be thought in future days
The friend of human-kind:
That after ages, as they rise,
Exulting may proclaim,
In choral union to the skies,
Their blessings on my name.
I cannot want them long—
For life itself is but a span
And earthly bliss a song.
My last great want, absorbing all,
Is, when beneath the sod,
And summoned to my final call—
The mercy of my God.
Of life the purple stream,
And yet a fragment small remains
Of nature’s transient dream,
My soul, in humble hope unscared,
Forget not thou to pray,
That this thy want may be prepared
To meet the Judgment Day.