Heaven Prepares Good Men With Crosses; But

I Have Been At My Book; And Am Now Past The Craggy Paths Of Study, And Come To The Flowery Plains Of Honour And Reputation

I Have No Urns, No Dusty Monuments; No Broken Images Of Ancestors, Wanting An Ear, Or Nose; No Forged Tales Of Long Descents, To Boast False Honors From.

I'll Give Anything For A Good Copy Now, Be It True Or False, So It Be News.

Nor For My Peace Will I Go Far, As Wanderers Do, That Still Do Roam, But Make My Strengths, Such As They Are, Here In My Bosom, And At Home.

The World Knows Only Two, That's Rome And I.