Who Sees Pale Mammom Pine

These Riches Are Possess'd, But Not Enjoy'd!

Ah! What Avails It Me The Flocks To Keep, Who Lost My Heart While I Preserv'd My Sheep.

Court-virtues Bear, Like Gems, The Highest Rate, Born Where Heav'n Influence Scarce Can Penetrate. In Life's Low Vale, The Soil The Virtues Like, They Please As Beauties, Here As Wonders Strike.

As The Twig Is Bent, So Grows The Tree.

To Observations Which Ourselves We Make, We Grow More Partial For Th' Observer's Sake.