What will a child learn sooner than a song?
Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, Lie in three words,-health, peace, and competence.
On cold December fragrant chaplets blow, And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.
Praise undeserved, is satire in disguise.
True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, As those move easiest who have learned to dance.
Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style, Amaze th' unlearn'd and make the learned smile.