About the country they may talk who will,
Who praise it ever to the town's despite.
Let him extol the charms of wood and hill
Who finds them peerless. None disputes his right.
For me the town! Each well-worn footway old
To me is dearer than your grass-grown lane.
Not all who struggle here contend for gold;
Green-growing things quit not the soul of pain.
"God made the country." Ay, and God made man.
Working through man His power He displays,
And in the city's mazes His great plan
Is writ as clear as in calm country ways.