Even in the stifling bosom of the town,_x000D_ _x000D_ A garden, in which nothing thrives, has charms_x000D_ _x000D_ That soothes the rich possessor; much consol'd,_x000D_ _x000D_ That here and there some sprigs of mournful mint,_x000D_ _x000D_ Or nightshade, or valerian, grace the well_x000D_ _x000D_ He cultivates.
William CowperRead