43 
But ever by its hearth are met, 
The joyous and the fair, 
For innocence and peace have set, 
Their seals on each one there. 
My Mother with her virtues meek, 
Fair Sisters whom I prize, 
Around my board a blessing speak, 
From loving, laughing eyes; 
Their tones are sweet, for heartfelt glee, 
In every voice is heard, 
And pure affection, warm and free, 
Sounds in each artless word. 
Then, Lady! leave thy halls of state, 
To share the peaceful lot, 
Of one who shuns the proud and great, 
For joys they value not; 
