Oliver Goldsmith

At night returning, every labour sped,
He sits him down, the monarch of a shed;
Smiles by read more

At night returning, every labour sped,
He sits him down, the monarch of a shed;
Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys
His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze;
While his lov'd partner, boastful of her hoard,
Displays her cleanly platter on the board.

How blest is he who crowns in shades like these,
A youth of labour with an age of ease.

How blest is he who crowns in shades like these,
A youth of labour with an age of ease.

Heroes themselves had fallen behind!
--Whene'er he went before.

Heroes themselves had fallen behind!
--Whene'er he went before.

Gay, sprightly, land of mirth and social ease
Pleased with thyself, whom all the world can please.

Gay, sprightly, land of mirth and social ease
Pleased with thyself, whom all the world can please.

A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay,
A cap by night,--a stocking all the day.

A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay,
A cap by night,--a stocking all the day.