John Byrom

For over-warmth, if false, is worse than truth.

For over-warmth, if false, is worse than truth.

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.

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.

A hand may first, and then a lip be kiss'd.

A hand may first, and then a lip be kiss'd.

Fresh feres will dry the bright blue eye
We late saw streaming o'er.

Fresh feres will dry the bright blue eye
We late saw streaming o'er.