John Byrom

Despair of all recovery spoils longevity,
And makes men's miseries of alarming brevity.

Despair of all recovery spoils longevity,
And makes men's miseries of alarming brevity.

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.

My hair is grey, but not with years.

My hair is grey, but not with years.

His eyes
Were with his heart. and that was far away.

His eyes
Were with his heart. and that was far away.