Why has not Man a microscopic eye? For this plain reason, Man is not a Fly. Say what the use, were finer optics giv'n, T' inspect a mite, not comprehend the heav'n.
Absent or dead, still let a friend be dear.
Luxurious lobster-nights, farewell, For sober, studious days!
Why did I write? What sin to me unknown dipped me in ink, my parents , or my own?
How vast a memory has Love!
Act well your part, there all the honour lies.