“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 joys must flow, And that dear hut, our home.” IfsWorldSelfHomeHappinessJoyLyingFoolFlowDearBreastsDeceitPrizeJewelsHuts Book:Poems by Nathaniel Cotton: With the Author's Life Source: Poems by Nathaniel Cotton: With the Author's Life
“Yet still we hug the dear deceit.” StillsDearDeceitHug Book:Various Pieces in Verse and Prose: Many of which Were Never Before Published Source: Various Pieces in Verse and Prose: Many of which Were Never Before Published