Classic Poem

And sweet it is to see in summer time
The daring goats upon a rocky hill
Climb here and there, still browzing as they climb,
While, far below, on rugged pipe and shrill
The master vents his pain; or homely rhyme
He chaunts; now changing place, now standing still;
While his beloved, cold of heart and stern!
Looks from the shade in sober unconcern.

Nor less another sight do I admire,
The rural family round their hut of clay;
Some spread the table, and some light the fire
Beneath the household Rock, in open day;
The ass's colt with panniers some attire;
Some tend the bristly hogs with fondling play;
This with delighted heart the Old Man sees,
Sits out of doors, and suns himself at ease.

The outward image speaks the inner mind,
Peace without hatred, which no care can fret;
Entire contentment in their plough they find,
Nor home return until the sun be set:
No bolts they have, their houses are resigned
To Fortune—let her take what she can get:
A hearty meal then crowns the happy day,
And sound sleep follows on a bed of hay.

In that condition Envy is unknown,
And Haughtiness was never there a guest;
They only crave some meadow overgrown
With herbage that is greener than the rest;
The plough's a sovereign treasure of their own;
The glittering share, the gem they dream the best;
A pair of panniers serve them for buffette;
Trenchers and porringers, for golden plate.