Contentment.

CONTENTMENT.

Whilst I beneath this silent shade, Contented sit and sing, I envy not the great their joys, That from their riches spring.

Let those who have in courts been bred, There still in splendor shine; Their lot of bliss may not surpass, Perhaps not equal mine,

While no unwelcome visitants, My solitude invade; The monarch is not more secure, Than I beneath this shade.

These friendly trees on either side, From heat a shelter stand; The white rose on the brier hangs, And seems t' invite my hand.

Ah! rose, no longer to my eyes Thy pow'rful charms display, For I've a sweeter flow'r than you, And one that looks more gay.