The Poem

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O Friend! I know not which way I must look
For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,
To think that now our life is only drest
For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook,
Or groom!—We must run glittering like a brook
In the open sunshine, or we are unblest:
The wealthiest man among us is the best:
No grandeur now in nature or in book
Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense,
This is idolatry; and these we adore:
Plain living and high thinking are no more:
The homely beauty of the good old cause
Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence,
And pure religion breathing household laws.
[Note]
[Contents 1802]
[Main Contents]		[1]
[A]

[B]
5
10

[Variant 1:]

1807
O thou proud City! which way shall I look1838

O thou proud City! which way shall I look

The text of 1840 returns to that of 1807.

[return]

[Footnote A:]