Is genuine happiness, and yet how dearly
Do we all pay for its base counterfeit!
We fancy wants, which to supply, we dare
Danger and death, enduring the privation
Of all free nature offers in her bounty,
To attain that which, in its full fruition,
Brings but satiety. The poorest man
May taste of nature in her element;
Pure, wholesome, never cloying; while the riches,
From the same stores, does but elaborate
A pungent dish of well-concocted poison.