Fame cannot tempt me up its ladder; `
I scorn the wreaths of Honour’s brow;
Gold has no power to make me gladder
Than I am now.
For I have found the prize of prizes;
The boon that can’t be sold or bought.
I taste on earth what paradise is –
Love in a cot.

Search deep, ye dry and solemn sages!
Rush fast, ye crowds! At Mammon’s call;
Ambition! Climb’ and win your wages –
A final fall.
But I’ll not climb, nor search, nor hurry;
For I have found the key of bliss –
The cure of care and pain and worry –
True love it is.

Our cot is humble; you may reckon
No bankers know that we exist;
No jewels has my love her neck on,
Or breast or wrist.
But we have found the rarest jewel –
A gem that can’t be sold or bought;
A happy fireside’s precious fuel –
Love in a cot.