Those Flimsy Webs That Break As Soon

A Life Of Ease Is A Difficult Pursuit.

Words Learn'd By Rote A Parrot May Rehearse, But Talking Is Not Always To Converse, Not More Distinct From Harmony Divine The Constant Creaking Of A Country Sign.

I Would Not Have A Slave To Till My Ground, To Carry Me, To Fan Me While I Sleep, And Tremble When I Wake, For All The Wealth That Sinews Bought And Sold Have Ever Earn'd.

The Kindest And The Happiest Pair Will Find Occasion To Forbear; And Something, Every Day They Live, To Pity, And Perhaps Forgive.

They Best Can Judge A Poet's Worth, Who Oft Themselves Have Known The Pangs Of A Poetic Birth By Labours Of Their Own.