As The Twig Is Bent, So Grows

Pleas'd Look Forward, Pleas'd To Look Behind,and Count Each Birthday With A Grateful Mind.

Heaven Gave To Woman The Peculiar Grace To Spin, To Weep, And Cully Human Race.

Avoid Extremes; And Shun The Fault Of Such Who Still Are Pleas'd Too Little Or Too Much.

Is It, In Heav'n, A Crime To Love Too Well?

The Muse But Serv'd To Ease Some Friend, Not Wife, / To Help Me Through This Long Disease, My Life.