Alexander Pope

All Nature is but art unknown to thee;
All chance direction, which thou canst not see;
All read more

All Nature is but art unknown to thee;
All chance direction, which thou canst not see;
All discord, harmony not understood;
All partial evil, universal good;
And spite of pride, in erring reason's spite,
One truth is clear, Whatever is is right.

Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe,
That seemed but zephyrs to the train beneath.

Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe,
That seemed but zephyrs to the train beneath.

In men, we various ruling passions find;
In women two almost divide the kind;
Those only fix'd, read more

In men, we various ruling passions find;
In women two almost divide the kind;
Those only fix'd, they first or last obey.
The love of pleasure, and the love of sway.

The infant, on opening his eyes, ought to see his country, and to
the hour of his death never read more

The infant, on opening his eyes, ought to see his country, and to
the hour of his death never lose sight of it.
[Fr., Un enfant en ouvrant ses yeux doit voir la patrie, et
jusqu'a la mort ne voir qu'elle.]

Extremes in nature equal ends produce; In man they join to some mysterious use.

Extremes in nature equal ends produce; In man they join to some mysterious use.