To Contemplation's Sober Eye. / Such Is

And Weep The More, Because I Weep In Vain.

We Frolic While 'tis May.

Nor Grandeur Hear With A Disdainful Smile The Short And Simple Annals Of The Poor.

The Applause Of List'ning Senates To Command, The Threats Of Pain And Ruin To Despise, To Scatter Plenty O'er A Smiling Land, And Read Their History In A Nation's Eyes.

If The Best Man's Faults Were Written On His Forehead, He Would Draw His Hat Over His Eyes.