404. London, MDCCCII

O FRIEND! I know not which way I must look

For comfort, being, as I am, opprest

To think that now our life is only drest

For show; mean handi-work of craftsman, cook,

Or groom!—We must run glittering like a brook

In the open sunshine, or we are unblest;

The wealthiest man among us is the best:

No grandeur now in nature or in book

Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense,

This is idolatry; and these we adore:

Plain living and high thinking are no more:

The homely beauty of the good old cause

Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence,

And pure religion breathing household laws.