They Dream In Courtship, But In Wedlock

No Silver Saints, By Dying Misers Giv'n, Here Brib'd The Rage Of Ill-requited Heav'n; But Such Plain Roofs As Piety Could Raise, And Only Vocal With The Maker's Praise.

At Every Trifle Take Offense, That Always Shows Great Pride Or Little Sense.

The Lights And Shades, Whose Well-accorded Strife Gives All The Strength And Color Of Our Life.

Why Did I Write? What Sin To Me Unknown Dipped Me In Ink, My Parents , Or My Own?

Soft Is The Strain When Zephyr Gently Blows, And The Smooth Stream In Smoother Numbers Flows; But When Loud Surges Lash The Sounding Shore, The Hoarse Rough Verse Should Like The Torrent Roar. When Ajax Strives Some Rock's Vast Weight To Throw, The Line Too Labours, And The Words Move Slow: Not So When Swift Camilla Scours The Plain, Flies O'er Th' Unbending Corn, And Skims Along The Main.