Of All Mechanics, Of All Servile Handycrafts-men,

When If Or Chance Or Hunger's Powerful Sway Directs The Roving Trout This Fatal Way, He Greedily Sucks In The Twining Bait, And Tugs And Nibbles The Fallacious Meat. Now, Happy Fisherman; Now Twitch The Line! How Thy Rod Bends! Behold, The Prize Is Thine!

How, Like A Moth, The Simple Maid Still Plays Around The Flame!

O Polly, You Might Have Toyed And Kissed, By Keeping Men Off, You Keep Them On.

Here Shock, The Pride Of All His Kind, Is Laid, Who Fawned Like Man, But Ne'er Like Man Betrayed.

Fair Words Cost Nothing.