These Riches Are Possess'd, But Not Enjoy'd!

Leave Not A Foot Of Verse, A Foot Of Stone, A Page, A Grave, That They Can Call Their Own; But Spread, My Sons, Your Glory Thin Or Thick, On Passive Paper, Or On Solid Brick.

Beauty That Shocks You, Parts That None Will Trust, Wit That Can Creep, And Pride That Licks The Dust.

In Lazy Apathy Let Stoics Boast, Their Virtue Fix'd: 't Is Fix'd As In A Frost; Contracted All, Retiring To The Breast; But Strength Of Mind Is Exercise, Not Rest.

A Gen'rous Heart Repairs A Sland'rous Tongue.

Education Forms The Common Mind.