To Endeavor To Work Upon The Vulgar

There Is A Certain Majesty In Simplicity Which Is Far Above All The Quaintness Of Wit.

Lo! The Poor Indian! Whose Untutor'd Mind Sees God In Clouds, Or Hears Him In The Wind; His Soul Proud Science Never Taught To Stray Far As The Solar Walk Or Milky Way.

Horses (thou Say'st) And Asses Men May Try, And Ring Suspected Vessels Ere They Buy; But Wives, A Random Choice, Untried They Take; They Dream In Courtship, But In Wedlock Wake; Then, Nor Till Then, The Veil's Removed Away, And All The Woman Glares In Open Day.

But Thinks, Admitted To That Equal Sky, His Faithful Dog Shall Bear Him Company.

For He Lives Twice Who Can At Once Employ, The Present Well, And E'en The Past Enjoy.