And woos him to leave the dust and glare
Of the crowded town, for a spot more fair,
Where trees in blossom, and birds on wing,
Lead the rapt heart from each worldly thing.
But man heeds not, for his rest is sold,
And his heart bows down to the god of gold;
For the tempting Zephyr he “cares not a groat,”
He is eagerly reaching a “ten pound note,”
That ragged, and soiled on the counter doth lay,
But the Zephyr indignantly bears it away.