Maxioms by John Byrom
Ah, happy years, once more who would not be a boy!
Ah, happy years, once more who would not be a boy!
A hand may first, and then a lip be kiss'd.
A hand may first, and then a lip be kiss'd.
My hair is grey, but not with years.
My hair is grey, but not with years.
How the devil is it that fresh features
Have such a charm for us poor human creatures?
How the devil is it that fresh features
Have such a charm for us poor human creatures?
His tact, too, temper'd him from grave to gay,
And taught him when to be reserved or free.
His tact, too, temper'd him from grave to gay,
And taught him when to be reserved or free.
