A Quote by Alexander Pope
Let Joy or Ease, let Affluence or Content, And the gay Conscience of a life well spent, Calm ev'ry thought, inspirit ev'ry grace, Glow in thy heart, and smile upon thy face.
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"With ev'ry pleasing, ev'ry prudent part, Say, what can Chloe want?"-She wants a heart.
A prison! heav'ns, I loath the hated name,
Famine's metropolis, the sink of shame,
A nauseous sepulchre, whose craving womb
Hourly inters poor mortals in its tomb;
By ev'ry plague and ev'ry ill possess'd,
Ev'n purgatory itself to thee 's a jest.
How fair doth Nature
Appear again!
How bright the sunbeams!
How smiles the plain!
The flow'rs are bursting
From ev'ry bough,
And thousand voices
Each bush yields now.
And joy and gladness
Fill ev'ry breast!
Oh earth!-oh sunlight!
Oh rapture blest!
Oh love! oh loved one!
Hail, gentle Dawn! mild blushing goddess, hail!Rejoic'd I see thy purple mantle spreadO'er half the skies, gems pave thy radiant way,And orient pearls from ev'ry shrub depend.
Ev'ry heart beats true 'neath the Red, White and Blue
Poets like painters, thus unskilled to trace The naked nature and the living grace, With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part, And hide with ornaments their want of art. True wit is Nature to advantage dressed, What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed.
Aurora hail, and all the thousand dies,
Which deck thy progress through the vaulted skies:
The morn awakes, and wide extends her rays,
On ev'ry leaf the gentle zephyr plays;
Harmonious lays the feather'd race resume,
Dart the bright eye, and shake the painted plume.
The love of praise, howe'er conceal'd by art, Reigns more or less, and glows in ev'ry heart.
A patriot is a fool in ev'ry age.
At ev'ry word a reputation dies.
And reputation bleeds in ev'ry word.
From ev'ry single window, I see your face. But when I reach a window there's an empty space.
If that thy fame with ev'ry toy be pos'd, 'Tis a thin web, which poysonous fancies make; But the great souldier's honour was compos'd Of thicker stuf, which would endure a shake. Wisdom picks friends; civility plays the rest; A toy shunn'd cleanly passeth with the best.
A sweet attractive kind of grace, A full assurance given by looks, Continual comfort in a face, The lineaments of Gospel books; I trow that countenance cannot lie, Where thoughts are legible in the eye. Was never eye, did see that face, Was never ear, did hear that tongue, Was never mind, did mind his grace, That ever thought the travel long- But eyes, and ears, and ev'ry thought, Were with his sweet perfections caught. [trow; believe or think]
Who wants to be a millionaire? And go to ev'ry swell affair?
Fill ev'ry glass, for wine inspires us,
And fires us
With courage, love and joy.
Women and wine should life employ.
Is there ought else on earth desirous?
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