Classic Poem

Leave, leave your folded flocks in peace to sleep;
All night upon the green your revels keep;
While on the verdant plain we sport and play
We'll never think of sleep or wish for day.
With innocent pleasure our moments we'll measure,
Content is a treasure that ne'er will decay.
Tho' wordlings advise us, tho' lordlings despise us,
They wrongly surmise us; we're better than they.