Thomas Gray

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

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

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield:
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke:
How read more

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield:
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke:
How jocund did they drive their team a-field!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

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.

The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast.

The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast.

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.