Our Proper Bliss Depends On What We

Reason's Whole Pleasure, All The Joys Of Sense, Lie In Three Words,-health, Peace, And Competence.

Why Did I Write? What Sin To Me Unknown Dipped Me In Ink, My Parents , Or My Own?

And Little Eagles Wave Their Wings In Gold.

If, Presume Not To God To Scan; The Proper Study Of Mankind Is Man. Plac'd On This Isthmus Of A Middle State, A Being Darkly Wise, And Rudely Great.

Chaste To Her Husband, Frank To All Beside, A Teeming Mistress, But A Barren Bride.