Give me, kind heaven, a private station, a mind serene for contemplation.
Exercise thy lasting youth defends.
Thus shadow owes its birth to light.
What happiness the rural maid attends, In cheerful labour while each day she spends! She gratefully receives what Heav'n has sent, And, rich in poverty, enjoys content.
And when a lady's in the case, You know, all other things give place.
In beauty faults conspicuous grow; The smallest speck is seen on snow.