Couplets On Wit - Poem by Alexander Pope
But our Great Turks in wit must reign alone
And ill can bear a Brother on the Throne.
Wit is like faith by such warm Fools profest
Who to be saved by one, must damn the rest.
Some who grow dull religious strait commence
And gain in morals what they lose in sence.
Wits starve as useless to a Common weal
While Fools have places purely for their Zea.
Now wits gain praise by copying other wits
As one Hog lives on what another sh---.
Wou'd you your writings to some Palates fit
Purged all you verses from the sin of wit
For authors now are so conceited grown
They praise no works but what are like their own.
Comments about Couplets On Wit by Alexander Pope
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You