® rant mg. 
190 
Such laughter makes my very heart 
Leap up with joy to hear, 
It tells that even poverty 
Is not entirely drear. 
It telleth—what I ever think, 
That God is good indeed; 
And that he suiteth, in us all, 
Our spirit to our need. 
Think ye—if these poor peasants were 
All discontent and sour— 
If they in frowns and murmurings 
Spent every wretched hour:—• 
Like many a cherished, pampered child. 
Whom wealth and fondness cloy, 
Till e’en the knowledge of a want 
Would he a novel joy:— 
Think, if these peasants pined like him 
For pleasures they have not, 
How manifold would then have been 
The sorrows of their lot! 
But they, unshod, bareheaded too, 
Fed sparsely with coarse food, 
Go laughing on their gleesome way, 
As God’s bright creatures should. 
They are like flowers, springing up 
In some unkindly place, 
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