On cold December fragrant chaplets blow, And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.

The dull flat falsehood serves for policy, and in the cunning, truth's itself a lie.

The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife gives all the strength and color of our life.

Nothing is more certain than much of the force; as well as grace, of arguments or instructions depends their conciseness.

For what I have publish'd, I can only hope to be pardon'd; but for what I have burned, I deserve to be prais'd.

Thus God and nature linked the gen'ral frame, And bade self-love and social be the same.

There goes a saying, and 'twas shrewdly said, ''Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.