Hear How The Birds, On Ev'ry Blooming

See Plastic Nature Working To This End, The Single Atoms Each To Other Tend, Attract, Attracted To, The Next In Place Form'd And Impell'd Its Neighbor To Embrace.

The Flower's Are Gone When The Fruits Appear To Ripen.

Tis Strange The Miser Should His Cares Employto Gain Those Riches He Can Ne'er Enjoy;is It Less Strange The Prodigal Should Wastehis Wealth To Purchase What He Ne'er Can Taste?

Satire's My Weapon, But I'm Too Discreet To Run Amuck, And Tilt At All I Meet.

Most Women Have No Characters At All.