They whisper content, and the foretaste of heaven.
I was born in the city, the city’s my home,
Yet oft in the country with pleasure I roam;
For there, I confess, the heart finds repose
In its pleasures and sorrows, which here it ne’er knows.
There no fashion, no nonsense, intrude on your walk,
But rational moments of rational talk,
Asserting that soiries, with jewels and dress,
Make a very small part of life’s happiness.
Ah! this I believe, most sincerely I do,