Round my social and well-garnish’d board.
But I would have a favourite few,
To my heart and my friendship more dear;
And I’d marry—I mustn’t tell who—
If I had a thousand a-year.
With comforts so many, what more
Could I ask of kind Fortune to grant?
Humph! a few olive branches—say four—
As pets for my old maiden aunt.
Then, with health, there’d be nought to append.