text:  Some turning to the days of youth sigh'd o'er the sinless time Ere passion led the heart astray to folly care and crime; And of that dizzy multitude from found or fancied woes Was scarcely one whose slumbers fell like dew upon the rose! Then turn'd I to the lowly hearth where scarcely labour brought The simplest and the coarsest meal that craving nature sought; Above outspread a slender roof to shield them from the rain And their carpet was the verdure with which nature clothes the plain; Yet there the grateful housewife sat her infant on her knee Its small palms clasp'd within her own as if likewise pray'd he; For ere their fingers brake the bread from toil incessant riven Son sire and matron bow'd their heads and pour'd their thanks to Heaven