Thomas Gray

And to hie him home, at evening's close,
To sweet repast, and calm repose.
. . . read more

And to hie him home, at evening's close,
To sweet repast, and calm repose.
. . . .
From toil we wins his spirits light,
From busy day the peaceful night;
Rich, from the very want of wealth,
In heaven's best treasures, peace and health.

Alas! regardless of their doom,
The little victims play;
No sense have they of ills to come,
read more

Alas! regardless of their doom,
The little victims play;
No sense have they of ills to come,
Nor care beyond to-day.

Some bold adventurers disdain
The limits of their little reign,
And unknown regions date descry.

Some bold adventurers disdain
The limits of their little reign,
And unknown regions date descry.

A favorite has no friend!

A favorite has no friend!

The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the read more

The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are open paradise.