named Mrs. Sanders, told me she and her family were moving
vainly sing my lay! His heart's most glad whose hand is free. Now when all
men keep holiday, Should be a harvest - day to me.
On holidays and Sundays naught know I more inviting Than chatting about
war and war's alarms, When folk in Turkey, up in arms, Far off, are 'gainst
each other fighting. We at the window stand, our glasses drain, And watch
adown the stream the painted vessels gliding Then joyful we at eve come
home again, And peaceful times we bless, peace long - abiding.
Ay, neighbour! So let matters stand for me! There they may scatter one