Nathaniel Cotton: If solid happiness we prize, Within our breast this jewel lies, And they are fools who roam; The world has nothing to be

If solid happiness we prize, Within our breast this jewel lies, And they are foo — Nathaniel Cotton

If solid happiness we prize, Within our breast this jewel lies, And they are fools who roam; The world has nothing to bestow, From our own selves our bliss must flow, And that dear hut,—our home.

Nathaniel Cotton

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