Tis True, 'tis Certain; Man, Though Dead,

Of Little Use, The Man You May Suppose, Who Says In Verse What Others Say In Prose; Yet Let Me Show A Poet's Of Some Weight, And (though No Soldier) Useful To The State, What Will A Child Learn Sooner Than A Song? What Better Teach A Foreigner The Tongue? What's Long Or Short, Each Accent Where To Place And Speak In Public With Some Sort Of Grace?

Why Did I Write? What Sin To Me Unknown Dipped Me In Ink, My Parents , Or My Own?

You Eat, In Dreams, The Custard Of The Day.

Ten Censure Wrong For One Who Writes Amiss.

Hills Peep O'er Hills, And Alps On Alps Arise.