Maxioms by John Byrom
But thy true lovers more admire by far
Thy naked beauties; give me a cigar.
But thy true lovers more admire by far
Thy naked beauties; give me a cigar.
For over-warmth, if false, is worse than truth.
For over-warmth, if false, is worse than truth.
But who would scorn the month of June,
Because December with his breath so hoary,
Must come? read more
But who would scorn the month of June,
Because December with his breath so hoary,
Must come? Much rather should he court the ray,
To hoard up warmth against a wintry day.
And all may think which way their judgments lead 'em.
And all may think which way their judgments lead 'em.
A hand may first, and then a lip be kiss'd.
A hand may first, and then a lip be kiss'd.
