Gazette Of The United States, & Philadelphia Daily Advertiser

I hate this puny world with all its store.

This bustling, noisy nothingness of life,

This treacherous herd of friends with hollow

core,

This vale of sorrow, and this field of strife.

Me shall some little tranquil thatch receive,

Some "settled low content," remote from

care;

There will I pipe away the sober eve,

And laugh, all day, at "Lady Fortune"

there.

Why should I mingle in the mazy ring

Of drunken Folly, at the Shrine of Chance,

Where fickle Pleasure flits on burnish'd wing,

Eludes our wishes, and keeps up the dance.

When, in the quiet of an humble home,

Beside the fountain, or upon the hill,

Where Strife, and Care, and Sorrow never come,

I may be free and happy if I will.