George Crabbe

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?

Temp'rate in every place--abroad, at home,
Thence will applause, and hence will profit come;
And health from read more

Temp'rate in every place--abroad, at home,
Thence will applause, and hence will profit come;
And health from either--he in time prepares
For sickness, age, and their attendant cares.

To show the world what long experience gains,
Requires not courage, though it calls for pains;
But read more

To show the world what long experience gains,
Requires not courage, though it calls for pains;
But at life's outset to inform mankind
Is a bold effort of a valiant mind.

The face the index of a feeling mind.

The face the index of a feeling mind.

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.