O Polly, You Might Have

What Happiness The Rural Maid Attends, In Cheerful Labour While Each Day She Spends! She Gratefully Receives What Heav'n Has Sent, And, Rich In Poverty, Enjoys Content.

What Then In Love Can Woman Do? If We Grow Fond They Shun Us. And When We Fly Them, They Pursue: But Leave Us When They've Won Us.

Envy Is A Kind Of Praise.

Breathe Soft, Ye Winds! Ye Waves, In Silence Sleep!

Learning By Study Must Be Won; 'twas Ne'er Entail'd From Son To Son.