He calls his wish, it comes; he sends it back,
And says he called another; that arrives,
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He calls his wish, it comes; he sends it back,
And says he called another; that arrives,
Meets the same welcome; yet he still calls on;
Till one calls him, who varies not his call,
But holds him fast, in chains of darkness bound,
Till Nature dies, and judgment sets him free;
A freedom far less welcome than this chain.

With all thy sober charms possest,
Whose wishes never learnt to stray.

With all thy sober charms possest,
Whose wishes never learnt to stray.

He that humbleth himself wishes to be exalted

He that humbleth himself wishes to be exalted

Little I ask; my wants are few;
I only wish a hut of stone
(A very plain read more

Little I ask; my wants are few;
I only wish a hut of stone
(A very plain brown stone will do),
That I may call my own;
And close at hand is such a one
In yonder street that fronts the sun.

When you love someone, all your saved-up wishes start coming out.

When you love someone, all your saved-up wishes start coming out.

I've often wished that I had clear,
For life, six hundred pounds a year,
A handsome house read more

I've often wished that I had clear,
For life, six hundred pounds a year,
A handsome house to lodge a friend,
A river at my garden's end,
A terrace walk, and half a rood
Of land, set out to plant a wood.

"Man wants but little here below
Nor wants that little long,"
'Tis not with me exactly so;
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"Man wants but little here below
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 the evil wish is most evil to the wisher.

And the evil wish is most evil to the wisher.

If I live to grow old, as I find I go down,
Let this be my fate in a read more

If I live to grow old, as I find I go down,
Let this be my fate in a country town;
May I have a warm house, with a stone at my gate,
And a cleanly young girl to rub my bald pate.
May I govern my passions with an absolute sway,
Grow wiser and better as my strength wears away,
Without gout or stone, by a gentle decay.
- Walter Pope, The Old Man's Wish,