Will best assuage the troublous cares of life.
But if dark Pride and Passion reign instead,
Look out for breakers, there are storms ahead!
An evil temper is a withering curse,
It grows no better, and it may grow worse.
If such thou woo, thou woo'st uncertain fate,
Best flee the enchantment ere it be too late.
Nor wed a dancing, feasting, frolicking 'gad,'
A female tramp is sure to drive you mad.
I do abhor to see a woman roam
For pleasures which she ought to find at home.
Turn we now from the moral Muse's strain,
To sing the pleasures of the rural plain,
And with some homely, frugal rules to cheer
And guide the labors of the rolling year.
Soon as the Pleiades begin to rise,
And shed their lights along the vernal skies,
Bring forth the plow; begin the summer's toil;
Now is the proper time to turn the soil.
Whatever the task, to plow, to sow, or reap,
Waste not your time in soul-degrading sleep.
Up and be doing, is the way to find
What bounteous treasure heaven has designed.
The active man secures it twice as soon
As he who snores in bed from mom till noon.
And let each stated season bring its round
Of labors finished, or with harvests crowned;
Nor grieve because you can't the world command,
When you don't manage even your own land.
'Tis base to look on wealth with envious eyes,
