To My Worthy Friend, Mr. T.B. One of the People Called Quakers
written in his Garden, July 1752.
Free from the proud, the pompous, and the vain,
How simply neat and elegantly plain,
Thy rural villa lifts it's modest head,
Where fair convenience reigns in fashion's stead;
Where sober plenty does it's bliss impart,
And glads thine hospitable, honest heart,
Mirth without vice, and rapture without noise,
And all the decent, all the manly joys!
Beneath a shadowy bow'r, the summer's pride,
Thy darling Tullia sitting by my side;
Where light and shade in varied scenes display
A contrast sweet, like friendly Yea and Nay ,
My hand, the secretary of my mind,
Left thee these lines upon the poplar 's rind.
Free from the proud, the pompous, and the vain,
How simply neat and elegantly plain,
Thy rural villa lifts it's modest head,
Where fair convenience reigns in fashion's stead;
Where sober plenty does it's bliss impart,
And glads thine hospitable, honest heart,
Mirth without vice, and rapture without noise,
And all the decent, all the manly joys!
Beneath a shadowy bow'r, the summer's pride,
Thy darling Tullia sitting by my side;
Where light and shade in varied scenes display
A contrast sweet, like friendly Yea and Nay ,
My hand, the secretary of my mind,
Left thee these lines upon the poplar 's rind.
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