Alexander Pope

Where round some mould'ring tow'r pale ivy creeps,
And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.

Where round some mould'ring tow'r pale ivy creeps,
And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.

To err is human, to forgive, divine.

To err is human, to forgive, divine.

Th' unwilling gratitude of base mankind!

Th' unwilling gratitude of base mankind!

The hog that ploughs not, not obeys thy call,
Lives on the labours of this lord of all.

The hog that ploughs not, not obeys thy call,
Lives on the labours of this lord of all.

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.