ON HAPPINESS

By Pope.

Oh ! happiness ! our being's end and aim, Good, pleasure, ease, content, whate'er thy name ! That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh, For which we bear to live, or dare to die ; Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, O'erlook'd, seen double by the fool and wise ; Plant of celestial seed, if dropp'd below. Say in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow !