John Byrom

But sighs subside, and tears (even widows') shrink,
Like Arno in the summer, to a shallow.

But sighs subside, and tears (even widows') shrink,
Like Arno in the summer, to a shallow.

For glances beget ogles, ogles sighs,
Sighs wishes, wishes words, and words a letter.

For glances beget ogles, ogles sighs,
Sighs wishes, wishes words, and words a letter.

His eyes
Were with his heart. and that was far away.

His eyes
Were with his heart. and that was far away.

He makes a solitude, and calls it peace.

He makes a solitude, and calls it peace.

Bone and Skin, two millers thin,
Would starve us all, or near it;
But be it known read more

Bone and Skin, two millers thin,
Would starve us all, or near it;
But be it known to Skin and Bone
That Flesh and Blood can't bear it.