No idle gold -- since this fine sun, my friend, 
Is no mean miser, but doth freely spend.

No prescious stones -- since these green mornings show, 
Without a charge, their pearls where'er 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 simple beast 
Can teach me to be happy with the least.