Maxioms by William Cowper
The priest he merry is, and blithe
Three-quarters of a year,
But oh! it cuts him like read more
The priest he merry is, and blithe
Three-quarters of a year,
But oh! it cuts him like a scythe
When tithing time draws near.
He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch,
Cold and yet cheerful; messenger of grief
Perhaps to thousands, read more
He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch,
Cold and yet cheerful; messenger of grief
Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some.
No, Freedom has a thousand charms to show
That slaves, howe'er contented, never know.
No, Freedom has a thousand charms to show
That slaves, howe'er contented, never know.
And prate and preach about what others prove,
As if the world and they were hand and glove.
And prate and preach about what others prove,
As if the world and they were hand and glove.
Not a flower
But shows some touch, in freckle, streak or stain,
Of his unrivall'd pencil.
Not a flower
But shows some touch, in freckle, streak or stain,
Of his unrivall'd pencil.
