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FLORA’S ALBUM. 
Tulip Tree. 
RURAL HAPPINESS. 
What happiness the rural maid attends, 
In cheerful labor while each day she spends ! 
She gratefully receives what Heaven has sent, 
And, rich in poverty, enjoys content. 
She never feels the spleen’s imagined pains, 
Nor melancholy stagnates in her veins ; 
She never loses life in thoughtless ease, 
Nor on the velvet couch invites disease : 
Her homespun dress in simple neatness lies, 
And for no glaring equipage she sighs ; 
Her reputation, which is all her boast, 
In a malicious visit ne’er was lost 
No midnight masquerade her beauty wears, 
And health, not paint, the fading bloom repairs. 
Gay. 
Low was our pretty cot; our tallest rose 
Peeped at the chamber window. We could hear, 
At silent noon, and eve, and early morn, 
The sea’s faint murmur. In the open air 
Our myrtles blossomed, and across the porch 
Thick jasmines twined ; the little landscape round 
Was green and woody, and refreshed the eye. 
Tt was a spot which you might aptly call 
The Valley of Seclusion. COLERIDGE. 







