In a cottage upon the heath wild,
That always was cleanly and nice,
Liv’d William, a good little child,
Who minded his parents’ advice.
’Tis true he lov’d marbles and kite,
And spin-top, and nine-pins, and ball;
But this I declare with delight,
His book he loved better than all.
In active and useful employ
His youth gayly glided away;
While rational pleasures and joy
Attended his steps every day.
And now let us see him grown up;
Still cheerfulness dwelt in his mind,
Contentment yet sweeten’d his cup,
For still he was active and kind.
His garden well loaded with store,
His cot by the side of the green,
Where woodbines crept over the door.
And jessamines peep’d in between.
These fill’d him with honest delight,
And rewarded him well for his toil:
He went to bed cheerful at night,
And woke in the morn with a smile.