WRITTEN ON THE WALLS OF HIS DUNGEON

Lo, where envy and where lies
    Held me in the prison cell:
    Blesséd was the lot that fell
To the humble and the wise
Far from earth's chagrins to dwell;
Who with thatch and homely fare
    Rests him in some sylvan spot,
Lone with God abiding there,
And none else his thought to share,
    Envying none, and envied not.