And took for truth the test of ridicule.
Her air, her manners, all who saw admir'd; Courteous though coy, and gentle though retir'd; The joy of youth and health her eyes display'd, And ease of heart her every look convey'd.
A club there is of smokers--dare you come To that close, clouded, hot, narcotic room? When, midnight past, the very candles seem Dying for air, and give a ghastly gleam; When curling fumes in lazy wreaths arise, And prosing topers rub their winking eyes.
Soldiers in arms! Defenders of our soil! Who from destruction save us; who from spoil Protect the sons of peace, who traffic or who toil; Would I could duly praise you, that each deed Your foe's might honor, and your friends might read.
When winter stern, his gloomy front uprears, A sable void the barren earth appears; The meads no more their former verdure boast, Fast-bound their streams, and all their beauty lost; The herds, the flocks, in icy garments mourn, and wildly murmur for the Spring's return; From snow-topp'd hills the whirlwinds keenly blow, Howl through the woods, and pierce the vales below, Through the sharp air a flaky torrent flies, Mocks the slow sight, and hides the gloomy skies.
Beauties, when disposed to sleep, Should from the eye of keen inspector keep: The lovely nymph who would her swain surprise, May close her mouth, but not conceal her eyes; Sleep from the fairest face some beauty takes, And all the homely features homelier makes.
To show the world what long experience gains, requires not courage, though it calls for pains; but at life's outset to inform mankind is a bold effort of a valiant mind.
Oh how the passions, insolent and strong, Bear our weak minds their rapid course along; Make us the madness of their will obey; Then die and leave us to our griefs as prey!
But jest apart--what virtue canst thou trace In that broad trim that hides thy sober face? Does that long-skirted drab, that over-nice And formal clothing, prove a scorn of vice? Then for thine accent--what in sound can be So void of grace as dull monotony?
Blest be the gracious Power, who taught mankind To stamp a lasting image of the mind! Beasts may convey, and tuneful birds may sing, Their mutual feelings, in the opening spring; But Man alone has skill and power to send The heart's warm dictates to the distant friend; 'Tis his alone to please, instruct, advise Ages remote, and nations yet to rise.
Experience finds few of the scenes that lively hope designs.
An infatuated man is not only foolish, but wild.
To every class we have a school assign'd, Rules for all ranks, and food for every mind: Yet one there is, that small regard to rule Or study pays, and still is deem'd a school; That, where a deaf, poor, patient widow sits, And awes some thirty infants as she knits; Infants of humble, busy wives, who pay Some trifling price for freedom through the day. At this good matron's hut the children meet, Who thus becomes the mother of the street.
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