Who Sees With Equal Eye, As God

True Ease In Writing Comes From Art, Not Chance, As Those Move Easiest Who Have Learned To Dance.

On Life's Vast Ocean Diversely We Sail, Reason The Card, But Passion Is The Gale; Nor God Alone In The Still Calm We Find, He Mounts The Storm, And Walks Upon The Wind.

Praise Undeserved, Is Satire In Disguise.

But Blind To Former As To Future Fate, What Mortal Knows His Pre-existent State?

The Approach Of Night The Skies Yet Blushing With Departing Light, When Falling Dews With Spangles Deck'd The Glade, And The Low Sun Had Lengthen'd Ev'ry Shade.