O FRIEND! I know not which way I must look   For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,   To think that now our life is only drest For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook, Or groom!—We must run glittering like a brook   In the open sunshine, or we are unblest:   The wealthiest man among us is the best: No grandeur now in nature or in book Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense,   This is idolatry; and these we adore:   Plain living and high thinking are no more:   The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence,   And pure religion breathing household laws.