Classic Poem

There is, there is, a soft, a peaceful shore!
An un-curs'd Eden , still in nature's store!
A spring, whence un-imbitter'd pleasures flow!
A treasury , of ev'ry thing, but woe!
Un-promis'd Canaan! which th' Almighty knew,
Too great a blessing for th' unthankful Jew :
Thence veil'd her beauties; pre-ordain'd, to grace
The destin'd triumphs of a nobler race!
On thy sweet plains , where all delights are sure,
Men can, by turns, be ev'ry thing, but poor .
The doubt-freed miser , here, fleeps void of care ,
For, who will plunder that, which all may share.
In other lands, our toil prepares our meat,
Our only labour, here, is — take, and eat.
Such various shapes does tempting pleasure wear,
That, which to chuse her in, is all our care.