- Anonymous
If I could but attain my wish, I'd have each day one wholesome dish, Of plain meat, or fowl, or fish.
A glass of port, with good old beer, In winter's time a fire burnt clear, Tobacco, pipes, an easy chair.
In some clean town a smug retreat, A little garden 'fore my gate, With Thousand pounds a year estate.
What stayed with you?
A line that lingered, a feeling, a disagreement. Great comments are as valuable as the original piece.
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