George Crabbe

The wife was pretty, trifling, childish, weak;
She could not think, but would not cease to speak.

The wife was pretty, trifling, childish, weak;
She could not think, but would not cease to speak.

Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme?
Can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread,
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Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme?
Can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread,
By winding myrtle round your ruin'd shed?

Now, at a certain time, in pleasant mood,
He tried the luxury of doing good.

Now, at a certain time, in pleasant mood,
He tried the luxury of doing good.

Oh, Conscience! Conscience! man's most faithful friend,
Him canst thou comfort, ease, relieve, defend;
But if he read more

Oh, Conscience! Conscience! man's most faithful friend,
Him canst thou comfort, ease, relieve, defend;
But if he will thy friendly checks forego,
Thou art, oh! woe for me, his deadliest foe!

Feed the musician, and he's out of tune

Feed the musician, and he's out of tune