My neighbor hath a lordly pile— A palace reared of polished stone, In which he lives in lavish style, Alone. I look upon his wealth and smile In rare content, while on my knee A wee one rides and crows at me— My own! My neighbor's is a regal place; But, oh! it hath no laughing face Of childhood there for sympathy. My neighbor's garden blooms are fine; They rise in hedges topped with gold, And all their radiance is mine. I see their blossom sheaths unfold; I breathe their fragrance day by day, And, aye, they nod and smile my way, Though I be poor. My neighbor's lawn is green and wide, And here and there a lofty tree With spreading arms stands to divide Its store of graceful shade with me; And oh! I'm sure That when the verdant days are gone New charms will greet me from the lawn! My neighbor hath a host of cares, For he must guard his costly wares And golden hoard; While I, crowned with domestic bliss, May gain a fond parental kiss He can't afford. I and my neighbor never meet, An alley separates our lands; My house is in a modest street, His on the drive—see, there he stands! Poor man; he 's naught but gold and gear; While I have home—and you, my dear! |