Classic Poem

No more shall I, since I am driven hence,
Devote to thee my graines of Frankinsence.
No more shall I from mantle-trees hang downe,
To honour thee, my little Parsly crown;
No more shall I (I feare me) to thee bring
My chives of Garlick for an offering;
No more shall I, from henceforth, heare a quire
Of merry Crickets by my Country fire,
Go where I will, thou luckie Larr stay here,
Warme by a glit'ring chimnie all the yeare.