It was a summer evening, Old Kaspar's work was done, And he before his cottage door Was sitting in the sun, And by him sported on the green His little grandchild Wilhelmine.

Somebody has been sitting in my chair!

He came to ask what he had found, That was so large, and smooth, and round.

And then she went to the porridge of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and tasted that; and that was neither too hot nor too cold, but just right.

O cool glad pasture; living tree, tall corn, Great cliff, or languid sloping sand, cold sea, Waves: river curving; you, eternal flowers, Give me content, while…

'A reasonable naturalist then settles down to this life with a sort of animal satisfaction. As Chinese illiterate women put it, 'Others gave birth to us and we…

Oh, for the simple life, For tents and starry skies!