Alexander Pope

He best can paint them who shall feel them most.

He best can paint them who shall feel them most.

See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs,
And mounts exulting on triumphant wings:
Short is his read more

See! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs,
And mounts exulting on triumphant wings:
Short is his joy; he feels the fiery wound,
Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.

Not chaos-like together crush'd and bruis'd,
But, as the world, harmoniously confused:
Where order in variety we read more

Not chaos-like together crush'd and bruis'd,
But, as the world, harmoniously confused:
Where order in variety we see,
And where tho' all things differ, all agree.

Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow;
The rest is all but leather and prunello.

Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow;
The rest is all but leather and prunello.

Hear how the birds, on ev'ry blooming spray,
With joyous musick wake the dawning day.

Hear how the birds, on ev'ry blooming spray,
With joyous musick wake the dawning day.