Maxioms by John Byrom
My hair is grey, but not with years.
My hair is grey, but not with years.
But time strips our illusions of their hue,
And one by one in turn some grand mistake
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But time strips our illusions of their hue,
And one by one in turn some grand mistake
Casts off its bright skin yearly like a snake.
With more of thanks and less of thought,
I strive to make my matters meet;
To seek read more
With more of thanks and less of thought,
I strive to make my matters meet;
To seek what ancient sages sought,
Physic and food in sour and sweet,
To take what passes in good part,
And keep the hiccups from the heart.
Dreading that climax of all earthly ills,
The inflammation of his weekly bills.
Dreading that climax of all earthly ills,
The inflammation of his weekly bills.
