God Made The Country, And Man Made

An Inadvertent Step May Crush The Snail That Crawls At Evening In The Public Path. But He That Has Humanity, Forewarned, Will Turn Aside And Let The Reptile Live.

Folly Ends Where Genuine Hope Begins.

But Animated Nature Sweeter Still, To Soothe And Satisfy The Human Ear.

Even In The Stifling Bosom Of The Town, A Garden, In Which Nothing Thrives, Has Charms That Soothes The Rich Possessor; Much Consol'd, That Here And There Some Sprigs Of Mournful Mint, Or Nightshade, Or Valerian, Grace The Well He Cultivates.

His Wit Invites You By His Looks To Come, But When You Knock, It Never Is At Home.