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Without a sense of caring, there can be no sense of community.

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The Believer's Principles : Chap. IV.

Faith and Sense Natural, compared and distinguished.


When Abram's body, Sarah's womb,
Were ripe for nothing but the tomb,
Exceeding old, and wholly dead,
Unlike to bear the promis'd seed:

Faith said, 'I shall an Isaac see;'
'No, no,' said Sense, 'it cannot be;'
Blind Reason, to augment the strife,
Adds, 'How can death engender life?'

My heart is like a rotten tomb,
More dead than ever Sarah's womb;
O! can the promis'd seed of grace
Spring forth from such a barren place?

Sense gazing but on flinty rocks,
My hope and expectation chokes:
But could I, skill'd in Abram's art,
O'erlook my dead and barren heart;

And build my hope on nothing less
That divine pow'r and faithfulness;
Soon would I find him raise up sons
To Abram, out of rocks and stones.

Faith acts as busy boatmen do,
Who backward look and forward row;
It looks intent to things unseen,
Thinks objects visible too mean.

Sense thinks it madness thus to steer,
And only trusts its eye and ear;
Into faith's boat dare thrust its oar,
And put it further from the shore.

Faith does alone the promise eye;
Sense won't believe unless it see;
Nor can it trust the divine guide,
Unless it have both wind and tide.

Faith thinks the promise sure and good;
Sense doth depend on likelihood;
Faith ev'n in storms believes the seers;
Sense calls all men, ev'n prophets, liars.

Faith uses means, but rests on none;
Sense sails when outward means are gone:

[...] Read more

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It's More Than Something You Can Intellectualize

There's a lot more to caring than knowing
There's a lot more to caring than saying
There's a lot more to caring than thinking
You can 'know' you care
Think you care
Convince yourself you care, even think that you genuinely care
But that really isn't fair
If your actions don't match
The attitude of caring
The attitude of loving
It's more

It's more than those who love you
More than those who care for you
It's the ones who don't
It's the ones you don't know
It's those, it's them, they need you most
You can't just walk away
Caring is more than something you can think about
You can't be compassionate and ignore a need
You can't fulfill every need
Where is compassion?

Where is caring?
If it's so much more, what is it that we have?
Is it worth trying?
Won't you fail?

But you forget
Caring is more

It's more than something you can intellectualize
It's more than a concept
It's more than thinking
More than knowing
More than even an action
Caring is a lifestyle
For all those around you
Even beyond yourself

O and one more thing caring isn't about caring about
Yourself.

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Patrick White

You Don't Need To Tell Me You Don't Care

You don’t need to tell me you don’t care, not caring
is an environmental condition since humans became
too dangerous to trust their own minds as the world,
let themselves be morning doves in the phoenix-fire of the sumac,
or a light within a light like a planet in the dusk,
the pink lilac of Mercury, the flashing white
gardenia of Venus. Killing only lets you be
one thing else
after you’ve deleted all the rest. Not caring
is the shape of a final heart, the rose recast by the minerals
as stone, cell by cell, nest by nest, petrified
by the cuckoo whose young shoulder the eggs of its host out
like refugees that take over the government
that gives them shelter. Not caring
is an ancient battlefield in the morning
where crows and old women, idiots, wretches, dogs
plunder the dead lying like islands in the mist,
a cemetery of maggots that froze before
they could finish eating the horse. Not caring
is deciding to live without punctuation
because everywhere you went something got in your way
like crosswalks or streetlights, your desire for precious metals,
to drink the silver pure, frustrated everywhere
by the corroded goblets and encrustations
of people who smiled like ores and tons of granite. Not caring,
is a leftover of porous slag and a gaping quarry,
and the gifts of not caring are always accidental
and come wrapped in the skins of old enemies, a relic of fangs
that fell out like the phases of the moon
when the new ones with their upgraded toxins appeared.

You don’t have to tell me you don’t care,
I’ve lived under glaciers long enough to know
the knives of the small arctics that plunge through the heart
like kingfishers never cry; I know
the striations of stone eyes
that leave their runic watermarks
like scars and coats of arms on a shield, how
the polar caps can descend down over a skull
for thousands of years and the people revert to hides.
Not caring is a moth-eaten charter
of inalienable human blights;
chained like a telephone book to the left side
of a junkie Medusa that sold Pegasus to a riding academy
for the last hit to take off her head
long before Perseus showed up like a rehab centre.
Not caring is a way of saying
the world has let you down like an elopement
you once waited for all night at a window
when windows were made of water,

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School-Community

School is a community which surrounds you most
A place where teachers seem somewhat like ghosts
Believing that it’s a chance for new friends
But the community also introduces new ends

You believe that you yourself can never be true
To reside into acting into someone that isn't you
The school community soon becoming fake
Inside, many people's hearts begin to ache

We believe in not showing our true selves
The community telling to dig deep in ourselves
Slowly we start believing that freedom is forbidden
But does school truly want ourselves to remain hidden?

Friendships can lead to you being cut down
We sometimes wish this community wasn't around
But then we realise not to defy the real world
And that the real truth is being unfurled

This community teaches us to stand on our own feet
And without this test we shall still remain incomplete
The teachings is something that no one seems to share
In the real world these are teachings we'll need out there

School is a place where there are things we must learn
Otherwise the community outside will cause us to return
The community outside is the place we are yearning
But this community is the place we are still learning…

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It Makes More Sense

It makes more sense,
Stopping something not to start.
Yes it makes more sense,
Not to tear things all apart.
Or bring up filthy garbage,
Knowing it is just a farce.

It makes more sense,
To walk away than to be petty.
And it makes more sense,
To prevent a thumping headache.
And it makes more sense,
Not to argue with a fool.
Knowing this is something done,
Many fools love to do.

And it makes more sense,
Stopping something not to start.
Yes it makes more sense,
Not to tear things all apart.
Or bring up filthy garbage,
Knowing it is just a farce.
And it makes more sense,
Not to argue with a fool.
Knowing this is something done,
Fools love to do.

And it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To chase all bitterness away.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.

And it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To chase all bitterness away.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.

Yes it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.
Yes it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.

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Only You Make It Better-whenever

I can't give dates when this happens,
Or...
Who this will touch.
But...
Someone's 'bout to fall in love,
And...
That is a must.

No I...
Can't give dates
Or time when this happens,
Or...
Who this will touch.
But...
Someone's 'bout to fall in love,
And...
That is a must.

Looking into your eyes I see me...
And that is a must.
When you ask me what I've got on mind...
I know you're there.
Looking into your eyes I see me...
And that is a must.
To show how much is there,
Io love...
And share.
I know that you'll love me.
I know you're caring.

Looking into your eyes I see me...
And that is a must.
When you ask me what I've got on mind...
I know you're there.
I know you're caring.

Only you make it better whenever I'm down.
I know you are there,
Caring.
And when we take our walks around...
I know you like it sharing.
I know you like it caring.
And when we take our walks around...
I know you like it sharing.
I know you like it caring.

Looking into your eyes I see me...
And that is a must.
When you ask me what I've got on mind...
I know you're there.

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Alexander Pope

An Essay on Criticism

Part I

INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.


'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence
To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose;
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well;
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not Critics to their judgment too?

Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right:
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.

Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd;
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last.
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,

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The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,

[...] Read more

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Job Proposal

The community has no immunity from the systematic demise
Of inner city enterprise

This demise creates economic development for administrations
In the midst of inner city death cries

Poverty, an opportunity for the business community to procure
Appropriations for the revitalization of bureaucratic relations
Poverty works, it is the hidden agenda that doth lurk

Anti-poverty programs comprehensive and coordinated
Jobs for social workers, counselors and bureaucrats created
While communities, neighborhoods and ghettos waited and waited

Urban Renewal 1949, Community Action Program 1964
Model Cities 1966, Community Development Block Grants 1974
Urban Development Action Grants 1977, Enterprise Zones 1980,
Empowerment Zones 1993

The community has no immunity from the systematice demise
Of inner city enterprise

Poverty and crime are permitted to murder the inner city
Without remorse, without mercy, without justice, without pity

The need for the slums sanctions traditional deterioration of
Social humanity
Representative of, representative of bureaucratic insanity

The community has no immunity from systematic demise
Of inner city enterprise

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The Ghost - Book IV

Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;

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Forsaking All Others Part 1

'NOT that you'll like him,' Nell said,
'No mystery - no romance,
A fine, stern, eagle-like head,
But he simply reeks of finance, -­
Started from nothing - self-made -­
And rather likes you to know it,
And now collects porcelain and jade,
Or some Seventeenth Century poet.

'Married in simpler days,
A poor little wren of a being,
Who exists to pray and praise,
And spends her life agreeing,
Thin and dowdy and pale,
And getting paler and thinner­
Well, the point of this dreary tale
Is I've asked them both to dinner.

'I'd leave her out like a shot,
For I'm not so keen about her,
But, my dear, believe it or not,
He won't dine out without her.
She has that terrible hold
That aging wives exert to
Replace young charms grown old­
Poor health and impeccable virtue.

'Lightly I asked them to dine,
And now I perceive the dangers,
My friends-yours and mine­
Are so terribly rude to strangers.
But you, dear girl, I can trust
To come and be brilliant and tender;
Vamp the man, if you must,
But give an impression of splendor.'

II

LEE sat before her mirror... rouged her lips,
Set dripping diamond earrings in her ears,
Polished a little at her finger tips,
Thought that she did not look her thirty years;

Thought, 'Poor dear Nellie's ill-assorted feasts!
I want to be as helpful as I can
Among that group of men and gods and beasts...
Why does she think I shall not like this man?

She made him sound entrancing... strong and crude,
Successful, dominant...I, who for so long

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Dear Candice,

If you can't sleep:

*
Make your bedroom more comfortable, keep it cool and quiet.
*
Get up and do something else. Then, go back to bed.
*
Drink warm milk or hot water before you go to bed.
*
Take a warm bath, read a little or listen to some quiet music in the evening.
*
Get fresh air and exercise during the day, but remember: exercise before bed can keep you awake.
*
Go to bed and get up at the same time every day.
*
Don't take naps during the day.
*
Avoid coffee, tea or soft drinks after 5 p.m.
*
Don't smoke or drink alcohol in the evening—it can keep you awake.
*
Don't eat spicy food in the evening.

If you often wake up during the night to go to the bathroom and can't get back to sleep, try not to drink very much before you go to bed.

But remember: if you need to take medication at bedtime, it is best to take pills with a full glass of water.

If you feel lonely:

You can spend time with other people by:

* Becoming a volunteer at your local school, hospital, church or community centre.
* Joining a seniors' club at your local church or community centre.
* Taking a course at your local school or community centre and learning a new activity.

You can also call and talk to a different friend or family member every day. You may want to write a short letter to a friend or family member who lives far away. Sometimes, just writing to someone can help you feel that this person is with you.

If you feel anxious, tense or worried:

* Try to relax by breathing slowly and deeply.
* Take a walk.
* Choose an activity you really enjoy doing, like listening to your favourite music, and do it.
* Tell a friend, family member or your doctor how you feel.
* Join a support group so that you can talk more about your anxious feelings.
* Take a relaxation or exercise class, like yoga, at your local school or community centre.
* Take a course and learn how to do an activity, like needlework or woodworking, at your local community or seniors' centre.

For more information, please contact:

ariel escalona, the sleep expert...(ha ha ha)

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Alankar (Decor) -14

Caring, loving, as mothers all in heart


Caring, loving, as mothers all in heart
That they are gods so said we do agree
Things do change but at times for all'fair'art

Mother she could find a girl so smart
For son so sweet her choice her'fair'degree
Caring, loving, as mothers all in heart

Busy preparations mounted high cost
Forward mother shopping, spending on spree
Things do change but at times for all'fair'art

Wishing pappa shouting decreed 'cut cost'
Wedding planning done rich momma was free
Caring, loving, as mothers all in heart

When all was well steady going so smart
Then came the news shocking 'no jamboree'
Things do change but at times for all'fair'art

Girl'fair'fled to beat son to loose heart
Alarmed pappa attacked momma fair free
Caring, loving, as mothers all in heart
Things do change but at times for all'fair'art

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Exclusively Aloof

You dip in your evils.
While others choose to sneak,
On those who sleep.

You dip in your evils.
While others choose to sneak,
On those who sleep.

There are sneaks and evil people...
Creeping up on people.

But I find that I am,
Exclusively elusive.
And I find that I can be exclusively aloof.
Yes I find that I can be exclusively elusive,
Caring less I'm in the loop.
As you and other people,
Can choose those things you do.

You dip in your evils.
While others choose to sneak,
On those who sleep.

But I find that I am,
Exclusively elusive.
And I find that I can be exclusively aloof.
Caring less I'm in the loop.
As you and other people,
Can choose those things you do.

There are sneaks and evil people.
Creeping up on people.
And I find that I can be exclusively aloof.
Caring less I'm in the loop.
As you and other people,
Can choose those things you do.

Yes I find that I can be exclusively elusive,
And I find that I can be exclusively aloof.
Caring less I'm in the loop.
As you and other people,
Can choose those things you do.

You dip in your evils.
And I find that I am exclusively aloof.
Others creep on people.
Yet I find that I can be exclusively elusive,
Caring less I'm in the loop.
As you and other people,
Choose that what you do.

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I Didn't Pay That Much Attention

You came to rip me up to bits...
Then you were gone.
And I stood there just taking it...
Because I was wrong!

I didn't know...
How much you loved me.
No, no.
I didn't know.

I didn't pay that much attention to the caring there.
No, no.
I didn't know.

You came to rip me up to bits...
Then you were gone.
And I stood there just taking it...
Because I was wrong!

I didn't pay that much attention to the caring there.
No, no.
I didn't know.

I didn't know...
How much you loved me.
No, no.
I didn't know.

I didn't know...
How much you loved me.
No, no.
I didn't know.

I didn't pay that much attention to the caring there.
No, no.
I didn't know.
I didn't pay that much attention to the caring there.
No, no.
I didn't know.
I didn't pay that much attention to the caring there.
No, no.
I didn't know.

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In Love

If it's so good to be had,
Why is it treated so bad.
If it's so good to be had,
Why is it treated so bad.

Nobody says...
Nobody cares,
For love!

Nobody says...
Nobody cares,
To love!

It's everywhere...
To be shared,
Everywhere!
By those caring.

It's everywhere...
To be shared,
Everywhere...
By those caring,
To stay...
And be,
In love!

To stay...
And be,
In love!

It's everywhere...
To be shared,
Everywhere!
By those caring.

It's everywhere...
To be shared,
Everywhere...
By those caring,
To stay...
And be,
In love!

If it's so good to be had,
Why is it treated so bad.
If it's so good to be had,
Why is it treated so bad.

It's everywhere...
To be shared,

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There's Many Still Caring

There's many still caring,
What they believe and hear.
Who says what about them.
And who to impress and how they live.

There's many still caring,
How they dress and appear.
And who's going to think what of them.
And what they have and what they give.

There's many still caring,
Where they go to pray.
And who sits in church with them.
And who is not there on Sunday.

And...
There's many still caring,
Once they prepare for bed.
If a neighbor is sleeping.
And who they know,
Is having sex instead.
And who is it with them in bed!

There's many still caring,
Where they go to pray.
And who sits in church with them.
And who is not there on Sunday.
And who they know,
Is having sex instead.
And who is it with them in bed!
And when they're done what's being said!

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We've All Been Greedy

Those peaceful nights for some have passed.
Those feeling safe...
In sheltered communities behind closed gates.
Are awakening.
But not to Robins singing.
To peer from behind French customed made doors.
Swinging out onto the patio.
Overlooking acres upon acres upon more acres,
Of freshly cut grass.

These awareness days have come upon us fast.
Who would believe such a quick erasing,
Of a way of life....
Would come to pass.
And leave those embittered with much grief,
With streaks of torment on twisted faces.
Disgraced and now nervously pacing.
In wait.
But for what?
When the 'why' of it has arrived too late!

We've been greedy.
See what gluttony does when it can't be overcomed.
We've been greedy,
And feeding on our selfishness.
While ripping the hearts out of those to sustain it.
Doing everything to gain more and maintain it.

We've been greedy!
And..
The stinging of the realness,
Persists.
And can not be contained.
Acts of civil madness...
Spreads fast!

Thousands go out of their minds.
Many more are trapped!

Something in their minds have snapped.
Only those exposed to fantasies,
Are observed doing that.

And a waste of explanation can not bring them back!
Their self delusions have attacked.

Leaving us all affected by that 'fat'!
Yes fat!

Undisciplined rascists...

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Gotham - Book II

How much mistaken are the men who think
That all who will, without restraint may drink,
May largely drink, e'en till their bowels burst,
Pleading no right but merely that of thirst,
At the pure waters of the living well,
Beside whose streams the Muses love to dwell!
Verse is with them a knack, an idle toy,
A rattle gilded o'er, on which a boy
May play untaught, whilst, without art or force,
Make it but jingle, music comes of course.
Little do such men know the toil, the pains,
The daily, nightly racking of the brains,
To range the thoughts, the matter to digest,
To cull fit phrases, and reject the rest;
To know the times when Humour on the cheek
Of Mirth may hold her sports; when Wit should speak,
And when be silent; when to use the powers
Of ornament, and how to place the flowers,
So that they neither give a tawdry glare,
'Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air;'
To form, (which few can do, and scarcely one,
One critic in an age, can find when done)
To form a plan, to strike a grand outline,
To fill it up, and make the picture shine
A full and perfect piece; to make coy Rhyme
Renounce her follies, and with Sense keep time;
To make proud Sense against her nature bend,
And wear the chains of Rhyme, yet call her friend.
Some fops there are, amongst the scribbling tribe,
Who make it all their business to describe,
No matter whether in or out of place;
Studious of finery, and fond of lace,
Alike they trim, as coxcomb Fancy brings,
The rags of beggars, and the robes of kings.
Let dull Propriety in state preside
O'er her dull children, Nature is their guide;
Wild Nature, who at random breaks the fence
Of those tame drudges, Judgment, Taste, and Sense,
Nor would forgive herself the mighty crime
Of keeping terms with Person, Place, and Time.
Let liquid gold emblaze the sun at noon,
With borrow'd beams let silver pale the moon;
Let surges hoarse lash the resounding shore,
Let streams meander, and let torrents roar;
Let them breed up the melancholy breeze,
To sigh with sighing, sob with sobbing trees;
Let vales embroidery wear; let flowers be tinged
With various tints; let clouds be laced or fringed,
They have their wish; like idle monarch boys,
Neglecting things of weight, they sigh for toys;

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The Victories Of Love. Book II

I
From Jane To Her Mother

Thank Heaven, the burthens on the heart
Are not half known till they depart!
Although I long'd, for many a year,
To love with love that casts out fear,
My Frederick's kindness frighten'd me,
And heaven seem'd less far off than he;
And in my fancy I would trace
A lady with an angel's face,
That made devotion simply debt,
Till sick with envy and regret,
And wicked grief that God should e'er
Make women, and not make them fair.
That he might love me more because
Another in his memory was,
And that my indigence might be
To him what Baby's was to me,
The chief of charms, who could have thought?
But God's wise way is to give nought
Till we with asking it are tired;
And when, indeed, the change desired
Comes, lest we give ourselves the praise,
It comes by Providence, not Grace;
And mostly our thanks for granted pray'rs
Are groans at unexpected cares.
First Baby went to heaven, you know,
And, five weeks after, Grace went, too.
Then he became more talkative,
And, stooping to my heart, would give
Signs of his love, which pleased me more
Than all the proofs he gave before;
And, in that time of our great grief,
We talk'd religion for relief;
For, though we very seldom name
Religion, we now think the same!
Oh, what a bar is thus removed
To loving and to being loved!
For no agreement really is
In anything when none's in this.
Why, Mother, once, if Frederick press'd
His wife against his hearty breast,
The interior difference seem'd to tear
My own, until I could not bear
The trouble. 'Twas a dreadful strife,
And show'd, indeed, that faith is life.
He never felt this. If he did,
I'm sure it could not have been hid;
For wives, I need not say to you,

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