George Crabbe

The face the index of a feeling mind.

The face the index of a feeling mind.

Feed the musician, and he's out of tune

Feed the musician, and he's out of tune

Oh! 'tis a precious thing, when wives are dead,
To find such numbers who will serve instead:
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Oh! 'tis a precious thing, when wives are dead,
To find such numbers who will serve instead:
And in whatever state a man be thrown,
'Tis that precisely they would wish their own.

Void of all honor, avaricious, rash,
The daring tribe compound their boasted trash--
Tincture of syrup, lotion, read more

Void of all honor, avaricious, rash,
The daring tribe compound their boasted trash--
Tincture of syrup, lotion, drop, or pill;
All tempt the sick to trust the lying bill.

In this fool's paradise, he drank delight.

In this fool's paradise, he drank delight.