 And as pale sickness does invade, Your frailer part, the breaches made, In that fair lodging still more clear, Make the bright guest, your soul, appear. |
| Poets that lasting marble seek Must come in Latin or in Greek. |
| Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, That stand upon the threshold of the new. |
| Poets lose half the praise they should have got, Could it be known what they discreetly blot. |
| Tea does our fancy aid, Repress those vapours which the head invade, And keeps that palace of the soul serene. |
| A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that 's good, and all that 's fair; Give me but what this riband bound, Take all the rest the sun goes round. |
| The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er; So calm are we when passions are no more! |
| The lark that shuns on lofty boughs to build, Her humble nest, lies silent in the field. |
| Go, lovely rose! Tell her that wastes her time and me That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. |
| Stronger by weakness, wiser men become. |
| Circle are praised, not that abound, In largeness, but the exactly round. |
| To love is to believe, to hope, to know; Tis an essay, a taste of Heaven below! |
| How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair! |
| All human things Of dearest value hang on slender strings. |
| Give us enough but with a sparing hand. |
| The fear of hell, or aiming to be blest, savors too much of private interest. |
| Vexed sailors cursed the rain, for which poor shepherds prayed in vain. |
| Others may use the ocean as their road; Only the English make it their abode. |
| So must the writer, whose productions should Take with the vulgar, be of vulgar mould. |
| His love at once and dread instruct our thought; As man He suffer'd and as God He taught. |
