In Paris a queer little man you may see,
A little man all in gray;
Rosy and round as an apple is he,
Content with the present whate'er it may be,
While from care and from cash he is equally free,
And merry both night and day!
"Ma foi! I laugh at the world," says he,
"I laugh at the world, and the world laughs at me!"
What a gay little man in gray.
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Those who want much, are always much in need; happy the man to
whom God gives with a sparing read more
Those who want much, are always much in need; happy the man to
whom God gives with a sparing hand what is sufficient for his
wants.
[Lat., Multa petentibus
Desunt multa; bene est cui deus obtulit
Parca quod satis est manu.]
What happiness the rural maid attends,
In cheerful labour while each day she spends!
She gratefully receives read more
What happiness the rural maid attends,
In cheerful labour while each day she spends!
She gratefully receives what Heav'n has sent,
And, rich in poverty, enjoys content.
Give what thou canst, without Thee we are poor;
And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away.
Give what thou canst, without Thee we are poor;
And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away.
Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.
Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.
Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;
The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
Sweet read more
Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;
The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent;
The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown:
Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss,
Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.
From labour health, from health contentment spring;
Contentment opes the source of every joy.
From labour health, from health contentment spring;
Contentment opes the source of every joy.
Where wealth and freedom reign, contentment fails,
And honour sinks where commerce long prevails.
Where wealth and freedom reign, contentment fails,
And honour sinks where commerce long prevails.
Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair.
Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair.
In a cottage I live, and the cot of content,
Where a few little rooms for ambition too low,
read more
In a cottage I live, and the cot of content,
Where a few little rooms for ambition too low,
Are furnish'd as plain as a patriarch's tent,
With all for convenience, but nothing for show:
Like Robinson Crusoe's, both peaceful and pleasant,
By industry stor'd, like the hive of a bee;
And the peer who looks down with contempt on a peasant.
Can ne'er be look'd up to with envy by me.
