Hail To The Chief Who In Triumph

I Am She, O Most Bucolical Juvenal, Under Whose Charge Are Placed The Milky Mothers Of The Herd.

Whose Lenient Sorrows Find Relief, Whose Joys Are Chastened By Their Grief.

Recollect That The Almighty, Who Gave The Dog To Be Companion Of Our Pleasures And Our Toils, Hath Invested Him With A Nature Noble And Incapable Of Deceit.

It Is Only When I Dally With What I Am About, Look Back And Aside, Instead Of Keeping My Eyes Straight Forward, That I Feel These Cold Sinkings Of The Heart.

Discretion Is The Perfection Of Reason, And A Guide To Us In All The Duties Of Life.