Whether With Reason, Or With Instinct Blest,

Ladies, Like Variegated Tulips, Show 'tis To Their Changes Half Their Charms We Owe.

We Think Our Fathers Fools, So Wise We Grow. Our Wiser Sons, No Doubt Will Think Us So.

He Best Can Paint Them Who Shall Feel Them Most.

Whate'er The Talents, Or Howe'er Designed, We Hang One Jingling Padlock On The Mind.

Ye Flowers That Drop, Forsaken By The Spring, Ye Birds That, Left By Summer, Cease To Sing, Ye Trees That Fade, When Autumn Heats Remove, Say, Is Not Absence Death To Those Who Love?