Give Me Again My Hollow Tree, A Crust Of Bread, And Liberty.

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Give me again my hollow tree,
A crust of bread, and liberty.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744)
-- Satires, Epistles, and Odes of Horace, Satire vi, Book ii, Line 220

Satire 's my weapon, but I 'm too discreet To run amuck, and tilt at all I meet.
Bare the mean heart that lurks behind a star.
Lord Fanny spins a thousand such a day.
There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl, The feast of reason and the flow of soul.
For I, who hold sage Homer's rule the best, Welcome the coming, speed the going guest.
But touch me, and no minister so sore; Whoe'er offends at some unlucky time Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme, Sacred to ridicule his whole life long, And the sad burden of some merry song.
Words that wise Bacon or brave Raleigh spoke.
The vulgar boil, the learned roast, an egg.
Above all Greek, above all Roman fame.

Give Me Again My Hollow Tree, A Crust Of Bread, And Liberty.

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