On Vital Statistics

Ill fares the land to hast'ning ills a prey (1)
Where wealth accumulates and men decay.'
But how much more unfortunate are those
Where wealth declines and population grows!

(1)This line is execrable; and I note it.
I quote it as the faulty poet wrote it.

Hilaire Belloc

Hilaire Belloc was an Anglo-French writer and historian, known for his poetry, essays, and children's books. Born on July 27, 1870, in France, he became a British citizen and was a prominent figure in early 20th-century British literature. Belloc was a devout Catholic, which significantly influenced his writings. He was a close friend of G.K. Chesterton and shared similar views on social and political issues. Belloc passed away on July 16, 1953, leaving behind a rich legacy of literary works.

Hilaire Belloc

The World Is Full Of Double Beds

Hilaire Belloc, Simple Poetry

Because My Faltering Feet

Hilaire Belloc, Simple Poetry

Lord Lundy

Hilaire Belloc, Simple Poetry

The Lion

Hilaire Belloc, Simple Poetry

English

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Who with a little cannot be content,
Endures an everlasting punishment.

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October, 1803

These times strike monied worldlings with dismay:
Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air
With words of apprehension and despair:
While tens of thousands, thinking on the affray,
Men unto whom sufficient for the day
And minds not stinted or untilled are given,
Sound, healthy, children of the God of heaven,
Are cheerful as the rising sun in May.
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A Testimony

I said of laughter: it is vain.
    Of mirth I said: what profits it?
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Man walks in a vain shadow; he
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The Vanity Of All Worldly Things.

As he said vanity, so vain say I,
Oh! vanity, O vain all under Sky;
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On brittle Earth a Consolation sound?
What is't in honour to be set on high?
No, they like Beasts and Sons of men shall dye,
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What then? Content in pleasures canst thou find,
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The Nations Peril.

Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates and men decay.
--Goldsmith.


I fear the palace of the rich,
    I fear the hovel of the poor;
Though fortified by moat and ditch,
    The castle strong could not endure;
Nor can the squalid hovel be
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The heritage of man, the earth,
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Discontents In Devon

More discontents I never had
Since I was born, than here;
Where I have been, and still am, sad,
In this dull Devonshire.
Yet justly too I must confess,
I ne'er invented such
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Than where I loath'd so much.

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