Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And, while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

So manifold, all pleasing in their kind, All healthful, are the employs of rural life, Reiterated as the wheel of time, Runs round; still ending, and beginning…

'Tis pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat, To peep at such a world; to see the stir Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd.

Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.

My home is my paradise. When I come home at night, I feel an overall peaceful sensation. We will never give this place up.

Bend low, O dusky Night, And give my spirit rest, Hold me to your deep breast, And put old cares to flight. Give back the lost delight That once my soul posses…

Long time he lay upon the sunny hill, To his father's house below securely bound.