THE CHOICE. ___ YE vot’ries of pleasure and ease, Proud,
wasting in riot the day, Drive
on your career as ye please, Let me follow a different way. The
woodland, the mountain, and hill, With the birds singing sweet from the tree, The
soul with serenity fill, And have pleasures more pleasing to me. When
I see yon parade thro’ the streets, With affected, unnatural airs, I
smile at your low, trifling gaits, And could heartily lend you my pray’rs Great
Jove! That man should his reason lay down, And
barter the peace of his mind, For the follies and
fashions of town? I’ll
retire to yon broom-cover’d fields, On the green mossy turf I’ll recline, The
pleasures that solitude yields, Composure and peace shall be mine. There
Thomson or Shenstone I’ll read, Well-pleas’d with each well-manag’d theme, With
nothing to trouble my head, But ambition to imitate
them. |