With Curious Art The Brain, Too Finely

Keep Up Appearances; There Lies The Test. The World Will Give Thee Credit For The Rest.

And Reputation Bleeds In Ev'ry Word.

Whom Drink Made Wits, Though Nature Made Them Fools.

Childhood, Who Like An April Morn Appears, Sunshine And Rain, Hopes Clouded O'er With Fears.

Enough Of Satire; In Less Harden'd Times Great Was Her Force, And Mighty Were Her Rhymes. I've Read Of Men, Beyond Man's Daring Brave, Who Yet Have Trembled At The Strokes She Gave; Whose Souls Have Felt More Terrible Alarms From Her One Line, Than From A World In Arms.