Oh! to some distant scene, a willing exile br From the wild roar of this busy world, br Were it my fate with Delia to retire, br With her to wander through the sylvan shade, br Each morn, or o'er the moss-embrowned turf, br Where, blest as the prime parents of mankind br In their own Eden, we should envy none, br But, greatly pitying whom the world calls happy br Gently spin out the silken thread of life!br br William Cowperbr br