These Riches Are Possess'd, But

As Some To Church Repair, Not For The Doctrine, But The Music There.

Some Place The Bliss In Action, Some In Ease, Those Call It Pleasure, And Contentment These.

Great Oaks Grow From Little Acorns. He Has A Green Thumb. He Has Green Fingers. He's Sowing His Wild Oats. Here Ceres' Gifts In Waving Prospect Stand, And Nodding Tempt The Joyful Reaper's Hand.

When To Mischief Mortals Bend Their Will, How Soon They Find It Instruments Of Ill.

Mark What Unvary'd Laws Preserve Each State, Laws Wise As Nature, And As Fixed As Fate.