Epigrams

A worthless thing is song, I trow, From out the heart which does not flow; But song from out no heart will flow Which does not feel of love the glow.

Though pedants have essayed to hammer Into our heads the points of grammar; We're oft obliged to set at nought The different force of should and ought; And oft are sorely puzzled whether We should make use of both or either.

When of yourself you have cause to speak Always make yourself broad and tall; Envy attacks you if you are great, But thorough contempt attends the small.