COUNTRY LIFE.
A quiet, little, shaded spot,
Far from the busy town,—
I rise at morn, gay as the lark,
In peace at night lay down.
My children prattle by my side,
Their father makes the hay,
Oh! who could be more blithe than us,
More happy all the day?
Far from the busy town,—
I rise at morn, gay as the lark,
In peace at night lay down.
My children prattle by my side,
Their father makes the hay,
Oh! who could be more blithe than us,
More happy all the day?
I make my garden, tend my flowers,
And watch the busy bee;
And sometimes rove amid the woods
With footsteps light and free;
And watch the busy bee;
And sometimes rove amid the woods
With footsteps light and free;
And oft my children weave themselves
Bright garlands for their hair—
I doubt if city dames e'er find
Aught in their shops so fair!
The children of content are we,
Oh! could the proud ones know
What peaceful joys belong to those
Who nature only know!
Bright garlands for their hair—
I doubt if city dames e'er find
Aught in their shops so fair!
The children of content are we,
Oh! could the proud ones know
What peaceful joys belong to those
Who nature only know!