A Coward Is The Kindest Animal; 'tis

I Have A Soul That Like An Ample Shield Can Take In All, And Verge Enough For More.

And Plenty Makes Us Poor.

All Authors To Their Own Defects Are Blind.

Railing In Other Men May Be A Crime, But Ought To Pass For Mere Instinct In Him: Instinct He Follows And No Further Knows, For To Write Verse With Him Is To Transprose.

Home Is The Sacred Refuge Of Our Life.