Chaste to her husband, frank to all beside, A teeming mistress, but a barren bride.
All nature is but art unknown to thee.
Wit is the lowest form of humor.
The good must merit God's peculiar care; But who but God can tell us who they are?
Where's the man who counsel can bestow, still pleased to teach, and yet not proud to know.
To the Elysian shades dismiss my soul, where no carnation fades.