Why Did I Write? What Sin To

But Honest Instinct Comes A Volunteer; Sure Never To O'er-shoot, But Just To Hit, While Still Too Wide Or Short In Human Wit.

As With Narrow-necked Bottles; The Less They Have In Them, The More Noise They Make In Pouring Out.

To Swear Is Neither Brave, Polite, Nor Wise.

Some Are Bewildered In The Maze Of Schools, And Some Made Coxcombs Nature Meant But Fools.

Let Opening Roses Knotted Oaks Adorn, And Liquid Amber Drop From Every Thorn.