Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry. 1904.

Poems of Sentiment: IV. Thought: Poetry: Books

“My minde to me a kingdom is”

Sir Edward Dyer (1543–1607)

MY minde to me a kingdom is;

Such perfect joy therein I finde

As farre exceeds all earthly blisse

That God or nature hath assignde;

Though much I want that most would have,

Yet still my minde forbids to crave.

Content I live; this is my stay,—

I seek no more than may suffice.

I presse to beare no haughtie sway;

Look, what I lack my mind supplies.

Loe, thus I triumph like a king,

Content with that my minde doth bring.

I see how plentie surfets oft,

And hastie clymbers soon do fall;

I see that such as sit aloft

Mishap doth threaten most of all.

These get with toile, they keepe with feare;

Such cares my minde could never beare.

No princely pompe nor welthie store,

No force to win the victorie,

No wylie wit to salve a sore,

No shape to winne a lover’s eye,—

To none of these I yeeld as thrall;

For why, my mind despiseth all.

Some have too much, yet still they crave;

I little have, yet seek no more.

They are but poore, though much they have,

And I am rich with little store.

They poor, I rich; they beg, I give;

They lacke, I lend; they pine, I live.

I laugh not at another’s losse,

I grudge not at another’s gaine;

No worldly wave my mind can tosse;

I brooke that is another’s bane.

I feare no foe, I fawne no friend;

I lothe not life, nor dread mine end.

I joy not in no earthly blisse;

I weigh not Crœsus’ wealth a straw;

For care, I care not what it is;

I feare not fortune’s fatal law;

My minde is such as may not move

For beautie bright, or force of love.

I wish but what I have at will;

I wander not to seeke for more;

I like the plaine, I clime no hill;

In greatest stormes I sitte on shore,

And laugh at them that toile in vaine

To get what must be lost againe.

I kisse not where I wish to kill;

I feigne not love where most I hate;

I breake no sleepe to winne my will;

I wayte not at the mightie’s gate.

I scorne no poore, I feare no rich;

I feele no want, nor have too much.

The court ne cart I like ne loath,—

Extreames are counted worst of all;

The golden meane betwixt them both

Doth surest sit, and feares no fall;

This is my choyce; for why, I finde

No wealth is like a quiet minde.

My wealth is health and perfect ease;

My conscience clere my chiefe defence;

I neither seeke by bribes to please,

Nor by desert to breed offence.

Thus do I live; thus will I die;

Would all did so as well as I!