To Be Poor, And To Seem Poor,

Near Yonder Thorn, That Lifts Its Head On High, Where Once The Sign-post Caught The Passing Eye, Low Lies That House Where Nut-brown Draughts Inspired, Where Graybeard Mirth And Smiling Toil Retired, Where Village Statesmen Talk'd With Looks Profound, And News Much Older Than Their Ale Went Round.

Such Dainties To Them, Their Health It Might Hurt; It 's Like Sending Them Ruffles When Wanting A Shirt.

The Youth Who Follows His Appetites Too Soon Seizes The Cup, Before It Has Received Its Best Ingredients, And By Anticipating His Pleasures, Robs The Remaining Parts Of Life Of Their Share, So That His Eagerness Only Produces Manhood Of Imbecility And An Age Of Pain.

Aspiring Beggary Is Wretchedness Itself.

Eternal Blessings Crown My Earliest Friend, And Round His Dwelling Guardian Saints Attend.