A hut that the winds make tremble
Is dearer to me than a noble palace;
And a dish of crumbs on the floor of my home
Is dearer to me than a varied feast;
And the soughing of the breeze through every crevice
Is dearer to me than the beating of drums.
Compare with Dr. Carlyle’s No. X.:—
The russet suit of camel’s hair
With spirits light and eye serene
Is dearer to my bosom far