While in the stall temptation spread
The printed gown or top-knot red;
Nor did her little happy train
For drum or whistle sue in vain.
Will Rigour’s brow relentless lour,
If pleasure steal from toil one hour?
[p9]
And shall the poor enjoy no ray
Of sunshine through their winter’s day?
Nor pluck the few wild flowers, that bloom
’Midst poverty’s ungenial gloom?