Edward Young

A soul without reflection, like a pile
Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.

A soul without reflection, like a pile
Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.

What is a miracle?--'Tis a reproach,
'Tis an implicit satire on mankind;
And while it satisfies, it read more

What is a miracle?--'Tis a reproach,
'Tis an implicit satire on mankind;
And while it satisfies, it censures too.

Then lady Cynthia, mistress of the shade,
Goes, with the fashionable owls, to bed.

Then lady Cynthia, mistress of the shade,
Goes, with the fashionable owls, to bed.

Procrastination is the thief of time: Year after year it steals, till all are fled, And to the mercies of read more

Procrastination is the thief of time: Year after year it steals, till all are fled, And to the mercies of a moment leaves The vast concerns of an eternal scene

Thou art so witty, profligate and thin,
At once we think thee Satan, Death and Sin.

Thou art so witty, profligate and thin,
At once we think thee Satan, Death and Sin.