For Man May Pious Texts Repeat, And

How Bravely Autumn Paints Upon The Sky The Gorgeous Fame Of Summer Which Is Fled!

When He Is Forsaken, Withered And Shaken, What Can An Old Man Do But Die?

Some Minds Improve By Travel, Others, Rather, Resemble Copper Wire, Or Brass, Which Get The Narrower By Going Farther.

And Ye, Who Have Met With Adversity's Blast, And Been Bow'd To The Earth By Its Fury; To Whom The Twelve Months, That Have Recently Pass'd Were As Harsh As A Prejudiced Jury - Still, Fill To The Future! And Join In Our Chime, The Regrets Of Remembrance To Cozen, And Having Obtained A New Trial Of Time, Shout In Hopes Of A Kindlier Dozen.

Whoe'er Has Gone Thro' London Street, Has Seen A Butcher Gazing At His Meat, And How He Keeps Gloating Upon A Sheep's Or Bullock's Personals, As If His Own; How He Admires His Halves And Quarters--and His Calves, As If In Truth Upon His Own Legs Grown.