Alexander Pope

Who shall decide when doctors disagree,
And soundest casuists doubt, like you and me?

Who shall decide when doctors disagree,
And soundest casuists doubt, like you and me?

There still remains to mortify a wit
The many-headed monster of the pit.

There still remains to mortify a wit
The many-headed monster of the pit.

Where round some mould'ring tow'r pale ivy creeps,
And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.

Where round some mould'ring tow'r pale ivy creeps,
And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.

Men would be angels, angels would be gods.

Men would be angels, angels would be gods.

Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade,
Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade.
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Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade,
Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade.
Where'er you tread the blushing flowers shall rise,
And all things flourish where you turn your eyes.