I Am So Smart. I Am So

Close To The Gates A Spacious Garden Lies, From The Storms Defended And Inclement Skies; Four Acres Was The Allotted Space Of Ground, Fenc'd With A Green Enclosure All Around. Tall Thriving Trees Confessed The Fruitful Mold: The Reddening Apple Ripens Here To Gold, Here The Blue Fig With Luscious Juice Overflows, With Deeper Red The Full Pomegranate Glows, The Branch Here Bends Beneath The Weighty Pear, And Verdant Olives Flourish Round The Year.

Each Man Delights In The Work That Suits Him Best.

Just Once I'd Like Someone To Call Me 'sir' Without Adding 'you're Making A Scene.'

Of All Creatures That Breathe And Move Upon The Earth, Nothing Is Bred That Is Weaker Than Man.

And Endless Are The Modes Of Speech, And Far Extends From Side To Side The Field Of Words.