Sweet Stay-at-Home

Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Well-content,

Thou knowest of no strange continent:

Thou hast not felt thy bosom keep

A gentle motion with the deep;

Thou hast not sailed in Indian seas,

Where scent comes forth in every breeze.

Thou hast not seen the rich grape grow

For miles, as far as eyes can go;

Thou hast not seen a summer’s night

When maids could sew by a worm’s light;

Nor the North Sea in spring send out

Bright hues that like birds flit about

In solid cages of white ice—

Sweet Stay-at-Home, all these long hours.