While Pensive Poets Painful Vigils Keep, Sleepless

Yes, I Am Proud; I Must Be Proud To See Men Not Afraid Of God, Afraid Of Me.

A Little Learning Is A Dangerous Thing; Drink Deep, Or Taste Not The Pierian Spring.

Ah! Why, Ye Gods, Should Two And Two Make Four?

Live Like Yourself, Was Soon My Lady's Word, And Lo! Two Puddings Smok'd Upon The Board.

Chiefs Who No More In Bloody Fights Engage, But Wise Through Time, And Narrative With Age, In Summer-days Like Grasshoppers Rejoice - A Bloodless Race, That Send A Feeble Voice.