Maxioms by Edward Young
Sense is our helmet, wit is but the plume;
The plume exposes, 'tis our helmet saves.
Sense read more
Sense is our helmet, wit is but the plume;
The plume exposes, 'tis our helmet saves.
Sense is the diamond, weighty, solid, sound;
When cut by wit, it casts a brighter beam;
Yet, wit apart, it is a diamond still.
Fond man! the vision of a moment made!
Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!
Fond man! the vision of a moment made!
Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!
How his eyes languish! how his thoughts adore
That painted coat, which Joseph never wore!
He shows, read more
How his eyes languish! how his thoughts adore
That painted coat, which Joseph never wore!
He shows, on holidays, a sacred pin,
That touch'd the ruff, that touched Queen Bess' chin.
A man I knew who lived upon a smile,
And well it fed him; he look'd plump and fair,
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A man I knew who lived upon a smile,
And well it fed him; he look'd plump and fair,
While rankest venom foam'd through every vein.
What folly can be ranker. Like our shadows,
Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.
What folly can be ranker. Like our shadows,
Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.
