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Interspersed in lawn and opening glades, Thin trees arise that shun each others' shades.

Alexander Pope

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Alexander Pope
Age: 56 †
Born: 1688
Born: May 21
Died: 1744
Died: May 30
Literary Historian
Poet
Translator
the City
Pope the Poet
Alexander I Pope
Alexander
I Pope
Shades
Thin
Shade
Arise
Trees
Interspersed
Opening
Shun
Tree
Lawn
Others
Lawns

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And soften'd sounds along the waters die: Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gently play.
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I was not born for courts and great affairs, but I pay my debts, believe and say my prayers.
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Index-learning turns no student pale, Yet holds the eel of Science by the tail. Index-learning is a term used to mock pretenders who acquire superficial knowledge merely by consulting indexes.
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Praise is like ambergrease: a little whiff of it, and by snatches, is very agreeable but when a man holds a whole lump of it to your nose, it is a stink, and strikes you down.
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It is sure the hardest science to forget!
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Some are bewildered in the maze of schools, And some made coxcombs nature meant but fools.
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Why did I write? What sin to me unknown dipped me in ink, my parents , or my own?
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Heaven gave to woman the peculiar grace To spin, to weep, and cully human race.
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What woeful stuff this madrigal would be, In some starved hackney sonneteer, or me! But let a lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens! how the style refines!
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Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
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Superstition is the spleen of the soul.
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Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows.
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Dulness! whose good old cause I yet defend, With whom my muse began, with who shall end.
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Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day, Charm'd the small-pox, or chas'd old age away . . . . To patch, nay ogle, might become a saint, Nor could it sure be such a sin to paint.
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Not always actions show the man we find who does a kindness is not therefore kind.
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Wine works the heart up, wakes the wit, There is no cure 'gainst age but it
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Every professional was once an amateur.
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Know then this truth, enough for man to know virtue alone is happiness below.
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Trade it may help, society extend, But lures the Pirate, ant corrupts the friend: It raises armies in a nation's aid, But bribes a senate, and the land's betray'd.
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Soft o'er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe, That seemed but zephyrs to the train beneath.
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