The Green Tent

Summer has spread a cool, green tent

Upon the bare poles of this tree;

Where ‘tis a joy to sit all day,

And hear the small bird’s melody;

To see the sheep stand bolt upright,

Nibbling at grass almost their height.

And much I marvel now how men

Can waste their fleeting days in greed;

That one man should desire more gold

Than twenty men should truly need;

For is not this green tent more sweet

Than any chamber of the great?

This tent, at which I spend my day,

Was made by Nature’s cost, not mine;

And when night comes, and I must sleep,

No matter if my room be fine

Or common, for Content and Health

Can sleep without the power of Wealth.