And slumbers never bought with gold,
Sit light on each untroubled breast.
No lagging pulse impedes our sleep,
No startling dreams our couch annoy,
But health and peace, in quiet deep,
Smile hovering round the country boy.
Then, when the morning bright and clear,
Springs gayly o’er the glistening hill,
With hardy sports we hail it near,
Or hardy labors bless it still.