John Byrom

I make a declaration every spring,
Of reformation ere the year run out,
But somehow this my read more

I make a declaration every spring,
Of reformation ere the year run out,
But somehow this my vestal vary takes wing.

For without transformation
Men become wolves on every slight occasion.

For without transformation
Men become wolves on every slight occasion.

Give me the soft sigh, whilst the soul-telling eye
Is dimm'd for a time with a tear.

Give me the soft sigh, whilst the soul-telling eye
Is dimm'd for a time with a tear.

Some say, that Seignior Bononchini
Compar'd to Handel's a mere Ninny;
Others aver, to him, that Handel
read more

Some say, that Seignior Bononchini
Compar'd to Handel's a mere Ninny;
Others aver, to him, that Handel
Is scarcely fit to hold a candle.
Strange! that such high Disputes shou'd be
'Twixt Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

In conversation avoid the extremes of forwardness and reserve.

In conversation avoid the extremes of forwardness and reserve.