Restrain Yourself... And Gloat In Silence. I'll

One Omen Is Best, To Fight In Defense Of One's Country.

Shame Is No Comrade For The Poor, I Weet.

It's About Time Trees Were Good For Something, Instead Of Just Standing There Like Jerks!

Close To The Gates A Spacious Garden Lies, From The Storms Defended And Inclement Skies; Four Acres Was The Allotted Space Of Ground, Fenc'd With A Green Enclosure All Around. Tall Thriving Trees Confessed The Fruitful Mold: The Reddening Apple Ripens Here To Gold, Here The Blue Fig With Luscious Juice Overflows, With Deeper Red The Full Pomegranate Glows, The Branch Here Bends Beneath The Weighty Pear, And Verdant Olives Flourish Round The Year.

I Live An Idle Burden To The Ground.