George Crabbe

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.

In this fool's paradise, he drank delight.

In this fool's paradise, he drank delight.

The face the index of a feeling mind.

The face the index of a feeling mind.

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.

'Twas good advice, and meant,
"My son, be good."

'Twas good advice, and meant,
"My son, be good."