Common Thistle.. ..Misanthropy. 
Who would seek or prize 
Delights that end in aching? 
Who would trust to ties 
That every hour are breaking ? 
Better far to be 
In utter darkness lying, 
Than be blest with light, and see 
That light for ever flying. 
All that’s bright must fade,— 
The brightest still the fleetest, 
All that’s sweet was made 
But to be lost when sweetest! 
Moore. 
I had much rather see 
A crested dragon or a basilisk, 
Both are less poison to my eyes and nature. 
Dryden. 
Hate all, curse all: show charity to none; 
But let the famished flesh slide from the bone, 
Ere thou relieve the beggar: give to dogs 
What thou deniest to men; let prisons swallow them, 
Debts wither them to nothing: be men like blasted 
woods, 
And may diseases lick up their false bloods. 
Shakspeare, 
