He whose desires are still abroad

He, whose desires are still abroad, I see

Hath never any peace at home the while;

And therefore now come back my heart to me.

It is but for superfluous things we toil.

Rest alone with thyself, be all within;

For what without thou gett'st, thou dost not win.

Honour, wealth, glory, fame are no such things

But that which from imagination springs.

High-reaching power, that seems to overgrow,

Doth creep but on the earth, lies base and low.