A Wit With Dunces, And A Dunce

Woman's At Best A Contradiction Still.

Interspersed In Lawn And Opening Glades, Thin Trees Arise That Shun Each Others' Shades.

Pretty! In Amber To Observe The Forms Of Hairs, Of Straws, Or Dirt, Or Grubs, Or Worms! The Things, We Know, Are Neither Rich Nor Rare, But Wonder How The Devil They Got There.

Great Oaks Grow From Little Acorns. He Has A Green Thumb. He Has Green Fingers. He's Sowing His Wild Oats. Here Ceres' Gifts In Waving Prospect Stand, And Nodding Tempt The Joyful Reaper's Hand.

Like Cato, Give His Little Senate Laws, And Sit Attentive To His Own Applause.