Speak not to me of great reception halls
Where stately ladies walk with stately men;
Speak not to me of dancing long at balls
Nor revelry till goodness knows but when.
I would not hear of how an endless round
Of parties, concerts, shows‐all the rest forgot‐
Is heaven. No, those pleasures find me bound;
They are not mine to taste‐I know them not.
But speak to me of quiet, calm repose,
When I may think and give my thoughts free play,
Explore each nook imagination knows,
And roam the world a million times a day.
Then shall my soul find joyful hours alone
When all is mine that Fancy bids me own.
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