Thomas Haynes Bayly

There is a method in man's wickedness:
It grows up by degrees.

There is a method in man's wickedness:
It grows up by degrees.

I've now got the music book ready,
Do sit up and sing like a lady
A recitative read more

I've now got the music book ready,
Do sit up and sing like a lady
A recitative from Tancredi,
And something from "Palpiti!"
Sing forte when first you begin it,
Piano the very next minute,
They'll cry "What expression there's in it!"
Don't sing English ballads to me!

Fly away, pretty moth, to the shade
Of the leaf where you slumbered all day;
Be content read more

Fly away, pretty moth, to the shade
Of the leaf where you slumbered all day;
Be content with the moon and the stars, pretty moth,
And make use of your wings while you may.
. . . .
But tho' dreams of delight may have dazzled you quite,
They at last found it dangerous play;
Many things in this world that look bright, pretty moth,
Only dazzle to lead us astray.

My fond affection thou hast seen,
Then judge of my regret
To think more happy thou hadst read more

My fond affection thou hast seen,
Then judge of my regret
To think more happy thou hadst been
If we had never met!
And has that thought been shared by thee?
Ah, no! that smiling cheek
Proves more unchanging love for me
Than labor'd words could speak.

Oh! no! we never mention her,
Her name is never heard;
My lips are now forbid to read more

Oh! no! we never mention her,
Her name is never heard;
My lips are now forbid to speak
That once familiar word.
- Thomas Haynes Bayly,