An acre of land between the shore and the hills, br Upon a ledge that shows my kingdoms three, br The lovely visible earth and sky and sea br Where what the curlew needs not, the farmer tills: br br A house that shall love me as I love it, br Well-hedged, and honoured by a few ash trees br That linnets, greenfinches, and goldfinches br Shall often visit and make love in and flit: br br A garden I need never go beyond, br Broken but neat, whose sunflowers every one br Are fit to be the sign of the Rising Sun: br A spring, a brook's bend, or at least a pond: br br For these I ask not, but, neither too late br Nor yet too early, for what men call content, br And also that something may be sent br To be contented with, I ask of Fate.