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.

With good and gentle-humored hearts
I choose to chat where'er I come
Whate'er the subject be that read more

With good and gentle-humored hearts
I choose to chat where'er I come
Whate'er the subject be that starts.
But if I get among the glum
I hold my tongue to tell the truth
And keep my breath to cool my broth.

And all may think which way their judgments lead 'em.

And all may think which way their judgments lead 'em.

Famed
For every branch of every science known.

Famed
For every branch of every science known.

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.