Thomas Gray

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.

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.

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.

. . where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.

. . where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.

There scatter'd oft the earliest of ye Year
By Hands unseen are showers of Vi'lets found;
The read more

There scatter'd oft the earliest of ye Year
By Hands unseen are showers of Vi'lets found;
The Redbreast loves to build and warble there,
And little Footsteps lightly print the ground.