On a Summer-House in My Own Garden

Whilst round my head the zephyrs gently play,
To calm reflection I resign the day;
From all the servitudes of life releast
I bid mild Friendship to the sober feast,
Nor Beauty banish from the hallow'd ground,
She enters here to solace, not to wound;
All else excluded from the sacred spot,
One half detested, and one half forgot:
All the mad human tumult, what to me?
Here chaste Calliope, I live with thee.
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