Maxioms by Alexander Pope
Yet still a sad, good Christian at the heart.
Yet still a sad, good Christian at the heart.
Oh, sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise.
By mountains pil'd on mountains to the skies?
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Oh, sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise.
By mountains pil'd on mountains to the skies?
Heav'n still with laughter the vain toil surveys,
And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.
Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand,
They rave, recite, and madden round the land.
Fire in each eye, and papers in each hand,
They rave, recite, and madden round the land.
Fools admire, but men of sense approve.
Fools admire, but men of sense approve.
In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true
From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew?
In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true
From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew?
