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?

Habit with him was all the test of truth;
"It must be right: I've done it from my youth."

Habit with him was all the test of truth;
"It must be right: I've done it from my youth."

To sigh, yet not recede; to grieve, yet not repent!

To sigh, yet not recede; to grieve, yet not repent!

"What is a church?" Let Truth and reason speak,
They would reply, "The faithful, pure and meek,
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"What is a church?" Let Truth and reason speak,
They would reply, "The faithful, pure and meek,
From Christian folds, the one selected race,
Of all professions, and in every place."

The coward never on himself relies,
But to an equal for assistance flies.

The coward never on himself relies,
But to an equal for assistance flies.