Maxioms by John Byrom
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?
Give me the soft sigh, whilst the soul-telling eye
Is dimm'd for a time with a tear.
Give me the soft sigh, whilst the soul-telling eye
Is dimm'd for a time with a tear.
Foes, friends, men, women, now are nought to me
But dreams of what has been, no more to be.
Foes, friends, men, women, now are nought to me
But dreams of what has been, no more to be.
