Minds that have nothing to confer Find little to perceive.
A Briton even in love should be A subject, not a slave!
Yet sometimes, when the secret cup Of still and serious thought went round, It seemed as if he drank it up, He felt with spirit so profound.
These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.
But hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity.
A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.