Animal Tranquility and Decay The English romantic poet speaks to the envy of old age.

The little hedgerow birds,

That peck along the road, regard him not.

He travels on, and in his face, his step,

His gait, is one expression; every limb,

His look and bending figure, all bespeak

A man who does not move with pain, but moves

With thought—He is insensibly subdued

To settled quiet: he is one by whom

All effort seems forgotten, one to whom

Long patience hath such mild composure given,

That patience now doth seem a thing of which

He hath no need. His is by nature led

To peace so perfect, that the young behold

With envy, what the old man hardly feels.