Though Peace Be Made, Yet

Words Learn'd By Rote A Parrot May Rehearse, But Talking Is Not Always To Converse, Not More Distinct From Harmony Divine The Constant Creaking Of A Country Sign.

And, Of All Lies (be That One Poet's Boast) / The Lie That Flatters I Abhor The Most.

Friends, Books, A Garden, And Perhaps His Pen, Delightful Industry Enjoy'd At Home, An Nature, In Her Cultivated Trim Dress'ed To His Taste, Inviting Him Abroad - Can He Want Occupation Who Has These?

Absence Of Occupation Is Not Rest.

They Fix Attention, Heedless Of Your Pain, With Oaths Like Rivets Forced Into The Brain; And E'en When Sober Truth Prevails Throughout, They Swear It, Till Affirmance Breeds A Doubt.