So Wise So Young, They Say, Do

There Are A Sort Of Men, Whose Visages Do Cream And Mantle, Like A Standing Pond; And Do A Willful Stillness Entertain, With Purpose To Be Dressed In An Opinion Of Wisdom, Gravity Profound Conceit; As Who Should Say, I Am Sir Oracle, And When I Ope My Lips, Let No Dog Bark!

The Plants Look Up To Heaven, From Whence They Have Their Nourishment.

O! For A Muse Of Fire, That Would Ascend The Brightest Heaven Of Invention.

If Thou Dost Seek To Have What Thou Dost Hide, By Self-example Mayst Thou Be Denied.

O England! Model To Thy Inward Greatness, Like Little Body With A Might Heart.