Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife.
Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.
From toil he wins his spirits light, From busy day the peaceful night; Rich, from the very want of wealth, In heaven's best treasures, peace and health.
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.