THE WANTS OF MAN.

"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.



What first I want is daily bread –

And canvas-backs – and wine –

And all the realms of nature spread

Before me, where I dine.

Four courses scarcely can provide

My appetite to quell;

With four choice cooks from France beside,

To dress my dinner well.



What next I want, at princely cost,

Is elegant attire:

Black sable furs for winter's frost,

And silk for summer's fire,

And Cashmere shawls, and Brussel's lace

My bosom's front to deck, –

And diamond rings my hands to grace,

And rubies for my neck.



I want (who does not want?) a wife, –

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 as Time's car incessant runs,

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.



I want a warm and faithful friend,

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

To him as his to me.



I want the seals of power and place,

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.



I want the voice of honest praise

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.



These are the Wants of mortal Man, –

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. – JOHN QUINCY ADAMS

