Sick of luxurious ease and health,
And rural meditation,
Sighs for his useful London life,
The restless night--the saw and knife
Of daily amputation.

Habit is second nature--when
It supersedes the first, wise men
Receive it as a warning,
That total change comes then too late,
And they must e'en assimilate
Life's evening to its morning.

Thrice happy he whose mind has sprung
From Mammon's yoke while yet unwrung
Or spoilt for nobler duty:--
Who still can gaze on Nature's face
With all a lover's zeal, and trace
In every change a beauty.

No tedium vitae round him lowers,
The charms of contrast wing his hours,
And every scene embellish:--
From prison, City, care set free,
He tastes his present liberty
With keener zest and relish.

_New Monthly Mag_.

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