Alexander Pope

Our rural ancestors with little blest,
Patient of labour when the end was rest,
Indulg'd the day read more

Our rural ancestors with little blest,
Patient of labour when the end was rest,
Indulg'd the day that hous'd their annual grain,
With feasts, and off'rings, and a thankful strain.

What riches give us let us then inquire:
Meat, fire, and clothes. What more? Meat, clothes, and fire.
read more

What riches give us let us then inquire:
Meat, fire, and clothes. What more? Meat, clothes, and fire.
Is this too little?

If Stupidity got us into this mess, then why can't it get us
out?"

If Stupidity got us into this mess, then why can't it get us
out?"

Where London's column, pointing at the skies,
Like a tall bully, lifts the head and lies.

Where London's column, pointing at the skies,
Like a tall bully, lifts the head and lies.

How instinct varies in the grov'lling swine,
Compar'd, half-reasoning elephant, with thine!
'Twixt that and reason what read more

How instinct varies in the grov'lling swine,
Compar'd, half-reasoning elephant, with thine!
'Twixt that and reason what a nice barrier!
Forever sep'rate, yet forever near!