Or If Virtue Feeble Were, Heav'n Itself

The Leaf Was Darkish, And Had Prickles On It, But In Another Country, As He Said, Bore A Bright Golden Flow'r, But Not In This Soil; Unknown, And Like Esteem'd, And The Dull Swain Treads On It Daily With His Clouted Shoon.

Beauty Is Nature's Brag, And Must Be Shown In Courts, At Feasts, And High Solemnities, Where Most May Wonder At The Workmanship.

Joking Decides Great Things, Stronger And Better Oft Than Earnest Can.

The Teachers Of Our Law, And To Propose What Might Improve My Knowledge Or Their Own.

Heaven Open'd Wide Her Ever During Gates, Harmonious Sound, On Golden Hinges Moving.