No Tree In All The Grove But

Pleasure Admitted In Undue Degree, Enslaves The Will, Nor Leaves The Judgment Free.

And The Tear That Is Wiped With A Little Address, May Be Follow'd Perhaps By A Smile.

Spare Feast! A Radish And An Egg.

Detested Sport, That Owes Its Pleasures To Another's Pain.

When One That Holds Communion With The Skies Has Fill'd His Urn Where These Pure Waters Rise, And Once More Mingles With Us Meaner Things, 'tis E'en As If An Angel Shook His Wings.