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Come to think of it, there are already a million monkeys on a million typewriters, and the Usenet is NOTHING like Shakespeare

quote by Blair Houghton
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Monkeys Must Know What's Good For Them

Monkeys do mind,
How a banana peels.
And how that's done,
To quicken the taste.

Why bananas do appeal,
And not coconuts?
I had not seen this spoken.
Or discussed in a fuss.

The monkeys must know what's good for them.
As they get their vitamins.
And swing from high vines.

The monkeys must know what's good for them.
And we...
Unfortunately,
Are not monkeys.

The monkeys must know what's good for them.
As they get their vitamins.
And swing from high vines.

The monkeys must know what's good for them.
And we...
Unfortunately,
Are not monkeys.

Monkeys do mind,
How a banana peels.
And how that's done,
To quicken the taste.

Why bananas do appeal,
And not coconuts?
I had not seen this spoken.
Or discussed in a fuss.
And we...
Unfortunately,
Are not monkeys.

The monkeys must know what's good for them.
As they get their vitamins.
And swing from high vines.
Stripping exotic trees,
Of fruit they leave.

The monkeys must know what's good for them.
And we,
Unfortunately...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When You Pick the Ticks Off Monkeys

Your love for monkeys,
Leaves a lump right here...
In my throat!

And I get so emotional,
When you swing from branch to tree branch...
On a vine,
Swinging...
Like one who has swung on a rope!

And when you pick ticks...
From another monkey's fur?
I get teary eyed...
Just watching what occurs!

When you pick the ticks off monkeys,
You remove the itch.
When you pick the ticks off monkeys,
You remove the itch.
When you pick the ticks off monkeys,
You remove the itch.
You remove the itch.
You remove that itch.

Ooo ooo ooo ooo ahhh ahhh ahhh ahhh,
You remove the itch.
Ooo ooo ooo ooo ahhh ahhh ahhh,
You remove the itch.
Ooo ooo ooo ooo ahhh ahhh ahhh ahhh,
You remove the itch.
You remove the itch.
You remove that itch.

When you pick the ticks off monkeys,
You remove the itch.
When you pick the ticks off monkeys,
You remove the itch.
When you pick the ticks off monkeys,
You remove the itch.
You remove the itch.
You remove that itch.

Your love for monkeys,
Leaves a lump right here...
In my throat!

And I get so emotional,
When you swing from branch to tree branch...
On a vine,
Swinging...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CXVI: One in a Million

A million feeling, one story
One feeling, a million story

A million question, one anxiety
One question, a million anxieties

A million smile, one meaning
One smile, a million meaning

A million languages, one will
One language, a million will

A million anger, one reaction
One anger, a million reaction

A million beginning, one ending
One beginning, a million ending

A million face, one heart
One face, a million hearts

A million dream, one happiness
One dream, a million happiness

A million love, one human
One love, a million human

A million trouble, one way
One trouble, a million ways

A million arts, one impression
One art, a million impressions

A million witness, one event
One witness, a million event

A million memories, one fact
One memory, a million facts

A million chance, one choice
One chance, a million choices

A million lives, one hope
One life, a million hope

A million reason, one lie
One reason, a million lie

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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More Fun Than A Barrel Of Monkeys

there are multiple questions pertaining to the concept,
'more fun than a barrel of monkeys.'

how big is the barrel?
how many monkeys are we talking about?
how big are the monkeys? Are we talking spider monkeys, chimps, baboons or what?
Are the monkeys old or young and where's the barrel, inside or outside?

If you leave the monkeys in the barrel, you got a problem:
they'll die in their own excrement,
if you lift the lid and let them out,
they might kill you.

a monkey can rip out your eyes, is that fun?
monkeys, leaping and running around the house, can do a lot of damage, is that fun?
monkeys are dirty, so... what exactly do you consider fun?
what's it going to be like trying to get the monkeys back in the barrel?
would that be fun?

what would the neighbors think of you, if you released the monkeys into their yards?
what happens if the police gets involved?
it could mean everything imaginable is more fun than a barrel of these animals.
maybe even more fun than a barrel of human beings.

poem by Richard Jarboe
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Sonnet Cycle to M C after W S Sonnets CXXXI - CXXXIX

Sonnet Cycle to M C after William Shakespeare Sonnets CXXXI - CLIV

[c] Jonathan Robin

CARE IS OUR DREAM

Sonnet Cycle after William Shakespeare: Part II
Sonnets CXXXI - CLIV

Shakespeare Sonnet CXXXI

Thou art so tyrannous, so as thou art,
As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel;
For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart
Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.
Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold,
Thy face hath not the power to make love groan;
To say they err I dare not be so bold,
Although I swear it to myself alone.
And to be sure that is not false, I swear,
A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face,
One on another's neck, do witness bear
Thy black is fairest in my judgement's place.
In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds,
And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds.

Sonnet CXXXI
Swift in succession fleet speed thoughts when I
Allow time to rhyme contemplating smile.
Nefertiti resignèdly would cry
Grieving 'Quits' obliged to reconcile
To defeat, a feat none else dare try.
Outer skin and inner heart worthwhile
Most naturally ally I testify,
Adopt love’s truth to heart, scorn art and style.
Millions shudder – to your rank unworthy -
Aware all their priorities weigh zilch,
Understatements glib by small minds scurvy,
Deprived of value still your fame they’d filch.
Enshadowed, dark, stark dead their teeming dreams
Compelled to spell fell shutters, failing themes.

Shakespeare Sonnet CXXXII

Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain,
Have put on black and ivory mourner she,
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
And truly not the morning sun of heaven
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Sonnet LX - Variations In Imitation - after William Shakespeare

See below W S Sonnet LX for English and French variations

Sonnet LX

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity, once in the main of light
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown’d,
Crooked eclipses ‘gainst his glory fight
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow
Feeds on the rareities of Nature’s truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow;
And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
Praising thy worth despite his cruel hand.

William SHAKESPEARE shak1_0008_shak1_0000 PST_DZX
________________________

So nnet LX Imitation - Par Vagues

Par vagues, s’approchant à la rive pierreuse,
Nos instants précieux écument leur destin,
Chacun son précédent remplaçant en chemin,
Le tout se bousculant - avancée périlleuse.
Le Temps notre jeunesse avale et l’âme heureuse,
Avance, et, mûrissant, se voit sacrée: sa main
Dispute nos chansons, gloires d’antan, - déclin
Que le faucheur étale, éclipse malheureuse.
Le Temps reprend ses dons, de profonds sillons creuse,
Des affronts forts profonds au front jadis si saint,
En dévorant les traces de notre grâce éteinte,
Aucun ne faisant face à sa fauche rieuse!
Pourtant malgré le Temps, sa main sans pitié,
Ces lignes attendent un jour coulant de vérité.

15 December 1991 revised 2005 robi3_0508_shak1_0008 PFT_DZX see robi3_0654
Translation William SHAKESPEARE – Sonnet LX for previous version see below

__________________

Sonnet LX

Ainsi qu’aux vagues visant la rive pierreuse,
Nos instants précieux se hâtent vers leur destin,
Chacun son précedent remplaçant en chemin,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Shakespeare Daughter's Hungry Street

Jules travelled down smoking art surreal street
to explore bohemian style flavoured beat.
Where all the noble artist souls are found
carrying her doves heart, she was stage bound.
Down to Shakespeare daughter's hungry street.

Jazz sax soared art savouring lovers danced.
Midget naked dancing twin brothers pranced.
Fire eater sister showed her fiery flash style.
Marching the military two step erotic mile.
Down upon Shakespeare daughter's hungry street.

Some priest held paintings of narrow grief.
Some lovers carried crosses of their belief.
Some miracle workers photographed their smile.
Some frozen suit prophets flaunted their style.
Down upon Shakespeare daughter's hungry street.

The red body wine skull shape face glowed.
Humanities blood of experience muse flowed.
Sax and ghost trumpeter explore reality theme.
Every jazz hip poet was singing up wild scene.
Down upon Shakespeare daughter's hungry street.

Some choir angels sung 'let humanity be heard'.
Redemptions poems quote reality to disturb.
Let the high barbed pitched tongues glow.
Artist dreams and mad sanity will overflow.
Down upon Shakespeare daughter's hungry street.

The immaculate dripping sky turned bright red.
Some saint laughed loud, cool your aching head.
Poets, junkies, taxman, lovers played high dice.
Each and every sister painted their own paradise.
Down upon Shakespeare daughter's hungry street.

Drinking her own redemption flavour wine divine.
Slept childlike and woke mysteriously to fine.
The seven stone evangelist had shifted outa town.
The sculptured Valentino had fallen nose down.
Down upon Shakespeare daughter's hungry street.

Jules travelled down smoking art valley street.
To savour bohemian flavour feel burning heat,
but finally her natural innocence was blown.
All the poets ritual seers faces had flown.
Down to Shakespeare daughter's hungry street.

poem by Wayne Falconer
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The Smartest Monkeys

Well man created the cardboard box to sleep in it
And man converted the newspaper to a blanket
Well you have to admit that hes come a long way
Since swinging about in the trees
Were the smartest monkeys
The smartest monkeys
The evidence is all around
Our brains are bigger
This weve found
The smartest monkeys
Well man discovered the park bench can make a transition
And the rubbish tip makes a valid form of nutrition
With discoveries like these
Civilisation agrees
To give itself a pat on the back
Were the smartest monkeys
The evolutions plain to see
Were the dominant of the species
The smartest monkeys
We brought the caveman from the stoneage
To the subways of the modern world
How they pack so many in
Quick call the guinness book of records
Well you have to admit...
Were the smartest monkeys...

song performed by Xtc
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Know that a monkey is on your back

There is a monkey on your back

At any point of time each one of us is carrying a monkey on the back.

Whether you like it or not your thoughts, words and deeds are determined by this very powerful monkey.

This monkey is nothing but a personification of the tasks either
assigned to you or taken up on your own.

The life line of the monkey is the strong desire that you nurse to
accomplish these tasks.

You may not know that you only feed this monkey and make it naughty.

They quality of your feed and its extent depend on your knowledge, attitude and earlier practices.

Often, wittingly or unwittingly we act only to get rid of the monkey.

Unfortunately, if one monkey goes the other is just taking its place.

And you think, talk and act accordingly.

Some wise people, are they really wise, pass on the monkey to some other’s back tactfully, so the monkey is rid off, but still alive. This is what
exactly happens in a work environment.

Know your monkeys and their feeds.

Fail not to feed them in time, as monkeys should be fed or shot to death. Otherwise, they will starve to death, forcing you to conduct postmortem.

Keep monkeys' population below the maximum number you can probably feed.

Feed monkeys only by appointment, otherwise you will be feeding them at odd hours.

Feed monkeys personally, if left to others, they may feed wrong and/or in unacceptable doses.

Each monkey is unique, hence its feed and frequency of feed differs.

No monkey stays long. They know when to leave you as once the monkey is satisfied with your hospitality it jumps off your back.

The new monkey on your back is the task to know whether monkeys are there or not on your back.

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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If you put a billion monkeys in front of a billion typewriters typing at random, they would reproduce the entire collected works of Usenet in about ... five minutes.

anonym
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Bishop Blougram's Apology

No more wine? then we'll push back chairs and talk.
A final glass for me, though: cool, i' faith!
We ought to have our Abbey back, you see.
It's different, preaching in basilicas,
And doing duty in some masterpiece
Like this of brother Pugin's, bless his heart!
I doubt if they're half baked, those chalk rosettes,
Ciphers and stucco-twiddlings everywhere;
It's just like breathing in a lime-kiln: eh?
These hot long ceremonies of our church
Cost us a little—oh, they pay the price,
You take me—amply pay it! Now, we'll talk.

So, you despise me, Mr. Gigadibs.
No deprecation—nay, I beg you, sir!
Beside 't is our engagement: don't you know,
I promised, if you'd watch a dinner out,
We'd see truth dawn together?—truth that peeps
Over the glasses' edge when dinner's done,
And body gets its sop and holds its noise
And leaves soul free a little. Now's the time:
Truth's break of day! You do despise me then.
And if I say, "despise me"—never fear!
1 know you do not in a certain sense—
Not in my arm-chair, for example: here,
I well imagine you respect my place
(Status, entourage, worldly circumstance)
Quite to its value—very much indeed:
—Are up to the protesting eyes of you
In pride at being seated here for once—
You'll turn it to such capital account!
When somebody, through years and years to come,
Hints of the bishop—names me—that's enough:
"Blougram? I knew him"—(into it you slide)
"Dined with him once, a Corpus Christi Day,
All alone, we two; he's a clever man:
And after dinner—why, the wine you know—
Oh, there was wine, and good!—what with the wine . . .
'Faith, we began upon all sorts of talk!
He's no bad fellow, Blougram; he had seen
Something of mine he relished, some review:
He's quite above their humbug in his heart,
Half-said as much, indeed—the thing's his trade.
I warrant, Blougram's sceptical at times:
How otherwise? I liked him, I confess!"
Che che, my dear sir, as we say at Rome,
Don't you protest now! It's fair give and take;
You have had your turn and spoken your home-truths:
The hand's mine now, and here you follow suit.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
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A Million To One

Baby, now that youve made up your mind
Im gonna let you go, if thats what it takes to show love is blind
I gave you the best love you ever had, but it wasnt enough
So if you think youre so smart, go and play with your heart
When you walk out the door, youll realize what you never did before
Chorus:
A million to one - thats what it will be
A million to one - theres someone better than me
A million to one - no, you never will find
A million to one - another love like mine
Yeah, we chose our sides and Ive been misunderstood
But everytime I try to open your eyes, Im damned and Im no good
Day after day, youre further away, I cant take anymore
So its time that you go, but I want you to know, I wont stand in your way
Deep in my heart I know, girl youre runnin away
Chorus
A million to one
One of these days youll come out of your haze, no matter what you do
Itll be too late, something good wont wait, love is runnin out on you
A million to one, a million to one
Chorus
A million to one - listen to your heart girl - a million to one - oh
A million to one - no, you never will find
A million to one - another love like mine
A million to one - no, you never will find
A million to one - another love like mine
A million to one (repeats out)

song performed by Kiss
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Million Dollar Face

You were hungry for the lights,
You spent your nights with socialites
Youre a million-dollar baby
With the million dollar blues
And you only gave your time to people you could use
Million dollar face with million dollar grace
You got off to a real bad start
Million dollar face in million dollar lace
You wound with a two cent heart
You were mine for just a little while
But true to style and with a smile you said,
I have to leave you, baby, hold me one more time
cause I know where I should be and its a long hard climb
Million dollar face with million dollar grace
You got off to a real bad start
Million dollar face in million dollar lace
You wound with a two cent heart
Million dollar face with million dollar grace
You got off to a real bad start
Million dollar face in million dollar lace
You wound with a two cent heart

song performed by Rick Springfield
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Dante, Shakespeare, Milton - From

Doctor. Ah! thou, too,
Sad Alighieri, like a waning moon
Setting in storm behind a grove of bays!
Balder. Yes, the great Florentine, who wove his web
And thrust it into hell, and drew it forth
Immortal, having burn’d all that could burn,
And leaving only what shall still be found
Untouch’d, nor with the small of fire upon it,
Under the final ashes of this world.
Doctor. Shakespeare and Milton!
Balder. Switzerland and home.
I ne’er see Milton, but I see the Alps,
As once, sole standing on a peak supreme,
To the extremest verge summit and gulf
I saw, height after depth, Alp beyond Alp,
O’er which the rising and the sinking soul
Sails into distance, heaving as a ship
O’er a great sea that sets to strands unseen.
And as the mounting and descending bark,
Borne on exulting by the under deep,
Gains of the wild wave something not the wave,
Catches a joy of going, and a will
Resistless, and upon the last lee foam
Leaps into air beyond it, so the soul
upon the Alpine ocean mountain-toss’d,
Incessant carried up to heaven, and plunged
To darkness, and still wet with drops of death
Held into light eternal, and again
Cast down, to be again uplift in vast
And infinite succession, cannot stay
The mad momentum, but in frenzied sight
Of horizontal clouds and mists and skies
And the untried Inane, springs on the surge
Of things, and passing matter by a force
Material, thro’ vacuity careers,
Rising and falling.
Doctor. And my Shakespeare! Call
Milton your Alps, and which is he among
The tops of Andes? Keep your Paradise,
And Eves, and Adams, but give me the Earth
That Shakespeare drew, and make it grave and gay
With Shakespeare’s men and women; let me laugh
Or weep with them, and you—a wager,—aye,
A wager by my faith—either his muse
Was the recording angel, or that hand
Cherubic, which fills up the Book of Life,
Caught what the last relaxing gripe let fall
By a death-bed at Stratford, and hence-forth
Holds Shakespeare’s pen. Now strain your sinews, poet,
And top your Pelion,—Milton Switzerland,

[...] Read more

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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An Unfortunate Likeness

I'VE painted SHAKESPEARE all my life -
"An infant" (even then at "play"!)
"A boy," with stage-ambition rife,
Then "Married to ANN HATHAWAY."

"The bard's first ticket night" (or "ben."),
His "First appearance on the stage,"
His "Call before the curtain" - then
"Rejoicings when he came of age."

The bard play-writing in his room,
The bard a humble lawyer's clerk.
The bard a lawyer (3) - parson (4) - groom (5) -
The bard deer-stealing, after dark.

The bard a tradesman (6) - and a Jew (7) -
The bard a botanist (8) - a beak (9) -
The bard a skilled musician (10) too -
A sheriff (11) and a surgeon (12) eke!

Yet critics say (a friendly stock)
That, though it's evident I try,
Yet even I can barely mock
The glimmer of his wondrous eye!

One morning as a work I framed,
There passed a person, walking hard:
"My gracious goodness," I exclaimed,
"How very like my dear old bard!

"Oh, what a model he would make!"
I rushed outside - impulsive me! -
"Forgive the liberty I take,
But you're so very" - "Stop!" said he.

"You needn't waste your breath or time, -
I know what you are going to say, -
That you're an artist, and that I'm
Remarkably like SHAKESPEARE. Eh?

"You wish that I would sit to you?"
I clasped him madly round the waist,
And breathlessly replied, "I do!"
"All right," said he, "but please make haste."

I led him by his hallowed sleeve,
And worked away at him apace,
I painted him till dewy eve, -
There never was a nobler face!

[...] Read more

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Because Youre Young

Psychodelicate girl - come out to play
Little metal faced-boy - dont stay away
Theyre so war-torn and resigned she cant talk any
More
What are they trying to prove?
What would they like to find?
Its love back to front and no sides - like I say
These pieces are broken - like I say
These pieces are broken
Hope Im wrong but I know
Because youre young - youll meet a stranger some night
Because youre young - what could be nicer for you and it makes me sad
So Ill dance my life away
A million dreams, a million scars
He punishes hard - was loving her such a crime
She took back everything she said
Left him nearly out of his mind
Theyre people I know - people I love
They seem so unhappy - dead or alive
Its love back to front and no sides - like I say
These pieces are broken - like I say
These pieces are broken
Hope Im wrong but I know
Because youre young - youll meet a stranger some night
Because youre young - what could be nicer for you and it Ill make me sad
So Ill dance my life away
A million dreams, a million scars
A million
A million scars
A million
A million dreams
A million
A million
A million
A million
A million

song performed by David Bowie
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A Thousand Years

Words by sting, music by sting and kipper
A thousand years, a thousand more,
A thousand times a million doors to eternity
I may have lived a thousand lives, a thousand times
An endless turning stairway climbs
To a tower of souls
If it takes another thousand years, a thousand wars,
The towers rise to numberless floors in space
I could shed another million tears, a million breaths,
A million names but only one truth to face
A million roads, a million fears
A million suns, ten million years of uncertainty
I could speak a million lies, a million songs,
A million rights, a million wrongs in this balance of time
But if there was a single truth, a single light
A single thought, a singular touch of grace
Then following this single point , this single flame,
The single haunted memory of your face
I still love you
I still want you
A thousand times the mysteries unfold themselves
Like galaxies in my head
I may be numberless, I may be innocent
I may know many things, I may be ignorant
Or I could ride with kings and conquer many lands
Or win this world at cards and let it slip my hands
I could be cannon food, destroyed a thousand times
Reborn as fortunes child to judge anothers crimes
Or wear this pilgrims cloak, or be a common thief
Ive kept this single faith, I have but one belief
I still love you
I still want you
A thousand times the mysteries unfold themselves
Like galaxies in my head
On and on the mysteries unwind themselves
Eternities still unsaid
til you love me

song performed by Sting
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New Year's Chimes

What is the song the stars sing?
(And a million songs are as song of one)
This is the song the stars sing:
(Sweeter song's none)

One to set, and many to sing,
(And a million songs are as song of one)
One to stand, and many to cling,
The many things, and the one Thing,
The one that runs not, the many that run.

The ever new weaveth the ever old,
(And a million songs are as song of one)
Ever telling the never told;
The silver saith, and the said is gold,
And done ever the never done.

The chase that's chased is the Lord o' the chase,
(And a million songs are as song of one)
And the pursued cries on the race;
And the hounds in leash are the hounds that run.

Hidden stars by the shown stars' sheen:
(And a million suns are but as one)
Colours unseen by the colours seen,
And sounds unheard heard sounds between,
And a night is in the light of the sun.

An ambuscade of lights in night,
(And a million secrets are but as one)
And anight is dark in the sun's light,
And a world in the world man looks upon.

Hidden stars by the shown stars' wings,
(And a million cycles are but as one)
And a world with unapparent strings
Knits the stimulant world of things;
Behold, and vision thereof is none.

The world above in the world below,
(And a million worlds are but as one)
And the One in all; as the sun's strength so
Strives in all strength, glows in all glow
Of the earth that wits not, and man thereon.

[...] Read more

poem by Francis Thompson
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There's a statistical theory that if you gave a million monkeys typewriters and set them to work, they'd eventually come up with the complete works of Shakespeare. Thanks to the Internet, we now know this isn't true.

quote by Ian Hart
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Imitations of Horace: The First Epistle of the Second Book

Ne Rubeam, Pingui donatus Munere
(Horace, Epistles II.i.267)
While you, great patron of mankind, sustain
The balanc'd world, and open all the main;
Your country, chief, in arms abroad defend,
At home, with morals, arts, and laws amend;
How shall the Muse, from such a monarch steal
An hour, and not defraud the public weal?
Edward and Henry, now the boast of fame,
And virtuous Alfred, a more sacred name,
After a life of gen'rous toils endur'd,
The Gaul subdu'd, or property secur'd,
Ambition humbled, mighty cities storm'd,
Or laws establish'd, and the world reform'd;
Clos'd their long glories with a sigh, to find
Th' unwilling gratitude of base mankind!
All human virtue, to its latest breath
Finds envy never conquer'd, but by death.
The great Alcides, ev'ry labour past,
Had still this monster to subdue at last.
Sure fate of all, beneath whose rising ray
Each star of meaner merit fades away!
Oppress'd we feel the beam directly beat,
Those suns of glory please not till they set.

To thee the world its present homage pays,
The harvest early, but mature the praise:
Great friend of liberty! in kings a name
Above all Greek, above all Roman fame:
Whose word is truth, as sacred and rever'd,
As Heav'n's own oracles from altars heard.
Wonder of kings! like whom, to mortal eyes
None e'er has risen, and none e'er shall rise.

Just in one instance, be it yet confest
Your people, Sir, are partial in the rest:
Foes to all living worth except your own,
And advocates for folly dead and gone.
Authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow old;
It is the rust we value, not the gold.
Chaucer's worst ribaldry is learn'd by rote,
And beastly Skelton heads of houses quote:
One likes no language but the Faery Queen ;
A Scot will fight for Christ's Kirk o' the Green:
And each true Briton is to Ben so civil,
He swears the Muses met him at the Devil.

Though justly Greece her eldest sons admires,
Why should not we be wiser than our sires?
In ev'ry public virtue we excel:

[...] Read more

poem by Alexander Pope
Added by Poetry Lover
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