Maxioms by George Crabbe
Oh! 'tis a precious thing, when wives are dead,
To find such numbers who will serve instead:
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Oh! 'tis a precious thing, when wives are dead,
To find such numbers who will serve instead:
And in whatever state a man be thrown,
'Tis that precisely they would wish their own.
'Twas good advice, and meant,
"My son, be good."
'Twas good advice, and meant,
"My son, be good."
Oh! rather give me commentators plain,
Who with no deep researches vex the brain;
Who from the read more
Oh! rather give me commentators plain,
Who with no deep researches vex the brain;
Who from the dark and doubtful love to run,
And hold their glimmering tapers to the sun.
All green was vanished save of pine and yew,
That still displayed their melancholy hue;
Save the read more
All green was vanished save of pine and yew,
That still displayed their melancholy hue;
Save the green holly with its berries red,
And the green moss that o'er the gravel spread.
