To follow foolish precedents, and wink With both our eyes, is easier than to think.
Accomplishments have taken virtue's place, and wisdom falls before exterior grace.
In a fleshly tomb, I am buried above ground.
The few that pray at all pray oft amiss.
Strength may wield the ponderous spade, May turn the clod, and wheel the compost home; But elegance, chief grace the garden shows, And most attractive, is the fair result Of thought, the creature of a polished mind.
'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume; And we are weeds without it.