Tranquilism

I call myself a Tranquilist;

With deep detachment I exist,

From friction free;

While others court the gilded throng

And worship Women, Wine and Song,

I scorn the three.

For I have reached the sober age

When I prefer to turn a page

Beside the fire,

And from the busy mart of men

To meditative book and pen

With grace retire.



If you are craving peace of mind,

In Tranquilism you will find

Philosophy;

Serenely fold your hands and wait

Be cloistered calm whatever fate

The Gods decree.

And though the world with rage be rent,

Hold it remote and claim content

With quiet heart;

You can't do much to better it,

But your good-will may help a bit,

Ere you depart.



So let us who are old and sere

To din of battle shut the ear,

And trumpet vain;

And though in no monastic mood

Accept the balm of solitude

And grace regain.

Let us be Tranquilists and try

In placid places to apply

Life's wisdom won;

In Nature's bounty we may bless

The Gods and wait with thankfulness

Our setting sun.