It Is A General Rule Of Judgment,

When I Thinkof My Own Native Land, In A Moment I Seem To Be There; But Alas! Recollection At Hand Soon Hurries Me Back To Despair.

The Man That Hails You Tom Or Jack, And Proves By Thumps Upon Your Back How He Esteems Your Merit, Is Such A Friend, That One Had Need Be Very Much His Friend Indeed To Pardon Or To Bear It.

Who Loves A Garden Loves A Greenhouse Too.

The Fall Of Waters And The Song Of Birds, And Hills That Echo To The Distant Berds, Are Luxuries Excelling All The Glare The World Can Boast, And Her Chief Favorites Share.

No Tree In All The Grove But Has Its Charms, Though Each Its Hue Peculiar.