Alexander Pope (1688–1744). Complete Poetical Works. 1903.
Poems: 171317Lines to Lord Bathurst
‘A W
He laugh’d, and shook his sides of fat.
His tongue, with eye that mark’d his cunning,
Thus fell a-reas’ning, not a-running:
‘Woods are—not to be too prolix—
Collective bodies of straight sticks.
It is, my lord, a mere conundrum
To call things woods for what grows under ’em.
For shrubs, when nothing else at top is,
Can only constitute a coppice.
But if you will not take my word,
See anno quint. of Richard Third;
And that ’s a coppice call’d, when dock’d,
Witness an. prim. of Harry Oct.
If this a wood you will maintain,
Merely because it is no plain,
Holland, for all that I can see,
May e’en as well be term’d the sea,
Or C[onings]by be fair harangued
An honest man, because not hang’d.’