E'vn in the stifling bosom of the town, A garden, in which nothing thrives, has charms That soothes the rich possessor much consol'd, That here and there some sprigs of mournful mint, Or nightshade, or valerian, grace the well He cultivates.
E'vn in the stifling bosom of the town, A garden, in which nothing thrives, has charms That soothes the rich possessor much consol'd, That here and there some sprigs of mournful mint, Or nightshade, or valerian, grace the well He cultivates.
The rich are too indolent, the poor too weak, to bear the insupportable fatigue of thinking.
He that holds fast the golden mean,And lives contently betweenThe little and the great,Feels not the wants that pinch the poor,Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories