He may be envied, who with tranquil breast
Can wander in the wild and woodland
scene,
When Summer's glowing hands have newly drest
The shadowy forests and the copses
green;
Who, unpursued by care, can pass his hours
Where briony and woodbine fringe the
trees,
On thymy banks reposing, while the bees
Murmur "their fairy tunes in praise of flowers;"
Or on the rock with ivy clad, and fern
That overhangs the ozier-whispering bed
Of some clear current, bid his wishes turn
From this bad world; and by calm reason
led,
Knows, in refined retirement to possess
By friendship hallowed - rural happiness.
