John Byrom

But who alas! can love and then be wise?

But who alas! can love and then be wise?

Rose, what is become of thy delicate hue?
And where is the violet's beautiful blue?
Does aught read more

Rose, what is become of thy delicate hue?
And where is the violet's beautiful blue?
Does aught of its sweetness the blossom beguile?
That meadow, those daisies, why do they not smile?

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.

For no one cares for matrimonial cooings,
There's nothing wrong in a connubial kiss.

For no one cares for matrimonial cooings,
There's nothing wrong in a connubial kiss.

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

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