Maxioms by John Byrom
A sword laid by,
Which eats into itself, and rusts ingloriously.
A sword laid by,
Which eats into itself, and rusts ingloriously.
Ah, happy years, once more who would not be a boy!
Ah, happy years, once more who would not be a boy!
But who alas! can love and then be wise?
But who alas! can love and then be wise?
