She now has wit—how did it come her way? A man through her his reason lost, they say. His head, though wise ere to this pastime lent, Straight to the devil—no, to woman went! 51. _A Pious Wish._ "Oh, might all keys be lost! 'Twere better so And in all keyholes might the pick-lock go!" Who thus reflects ye may as—picklock know. 52. _Foot Writing._ I write not with the hand alone, My foot would write, my foot that capers, Firm, free and bold, it's marching on Now through the fields, now through the papers. 53. "_Human, All-too-Human._"... Shy, gloomy, when your looks are backward thrust, Trusting the future where yourself you trust, Are you an eagle, mid the nobler fowl, Or are you like Minerva's darling owl? 54. _To my Reader._ Good teeth and a digestion good I wish you—these you need, be sure! And, certes, if my book you've stood, Me with good humour you'll endure. 55. _The Realistic Painter._ "To nature true, complete!" so he begins. Who complete Nature to his canvas _wins_? Her tiniest fragment's endless, no constraint Can know: he paints just what his _fancy_ pins: What does his fancy pin? What he _can_ paint! 56. _Poets' Vanity._ Glue, only glue to me dispense, The wood I'll find myself, don't fear! To give four senseless verses sense— That's an achievement I revere! 57. _Taste in Choosing._ If to choose my niche precise Freedom I could win from fate, I'd be in midst of Paradise— Or, sooner still—before the gate! 58. _The Crooked Nose._ Wide blow your nostrils, and across The land your nose holds haughty sway: So you, unhorned rhinoceros, Proud mannikin, fall forward aye! The one trait with the other goes: A straight pride and a crooked nose. 59. _The Pen is Scratching...._