Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Well-content, 
Thou knowest of no strange continent; 
Thou hast not felt thy bosom keep 
A gentle motion with the deep; 
Thou hast not sailed in Indian seas, 
Where scent comes forth in every breeze. 
Thou hast not seen the rich grape grow 
For miles, as far as eyes can go: 
Thou hast not seen a summer's night 
When maids could sew by a worm's light; 
Nor the North Sea in spring send out 
Bright hues that like birds flit about 
In solid cages of white ice -- 
Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Love-one-place, 
Thou hast not seen black fingers pick 
White cotton when the bloom is thick, 
Nor heard black throats in harmony; 
Nor hast thou sat on stones that lie 
Flat on the earth, that once did rise 
To hide proud kings from common eyes. 
Thou hast not seen plains full of bloom 
Where green things had such little room 
They pleased the eye like fairer flowers -- 
Sweet Stay-at-Home, all these long hours. 
Sweet Well-content, sweet Love-one-place, 
Sweet, simple maid, bless thy dear face; 
For thou hast made more homely stuff 
Nurture thy gentle self enough; 
I love thee for a heart that's kind -- 
Not for the knowledge in thy mind.