George Crabbe

Through the sharp air a flaky torrent flies,
Mocks the slow sight, and hides the gloomy skies;
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Through the sharp air a flaky torrent flies,
Mocks the slow sight, and hides the gloomy skies;
The fleecy clouds their chilly bosoms bare,
And shed their substance on the floating air.

Feed the musician, and he's out of tune

Feed the musician, and he's out of tune

Come, now again, thy woes impart,
Tell all thy sorrows, all thy sin;
We cannot heal the read more

Come, now again, thy woes impart,
Tell all thy sorrows, all thy sin;
We cannot heal the throbbing heart
Will we discern the wounds within.

Void of all honor, avaricious, rash,
The daring tribe compound their boasted trash--
Tincture of syrup, lotion, read more

Void of all honor, avaricious, rash,
The daring tribe compound their boasted trash--
Tincture of syrup, lotion, drop, or pill;
All tempt the sick to trust the lying bill.

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.