Alexander Pope

Next o'er his books his eyes began to roll,
In pleasing memory of all he stole;
How read more

Next o'er his books his eyes began to roll,
In pleasing memory of all he stole;
How here he sipp'd, how there he plunder'd snug,
And suck'd all o'er like an industrious bug.

What beck'ning ghost along the moonlight shade
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?

What beck'ning ghost along the moonlight shade
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?

What the weak head with strongest bias rules,
Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.

What the weak head with strongest bias rules,
Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.

Where'er you walk cool gales shall fan the glade,
Trees where you sit shall crowd into a shade.
read more

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.

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.