No idle gold-- since this fine sun, my friend,

Is no mean miser, but doth freely spend.

No precious stones-- since these green mornings show,

Without a charge, their pearls, wherever I go.

No lifeless books-- since birds with their sweet tongues

Will read aloud to me their happier songs.

No painted scenes-- since clouds can change their skies

A hundred times a day to please my eyes.

No headstrong wine-- since when I drink, the spring

Into my eager ears will softly sing.

No surplus clothes-- since every single beast

Can teach me to be happy with the least.