William Cowper

While fancy, like the finger of a clock,
Runs the great circuit, and is still at home.

While fancy, like the finger of a clock,
Runs the great circuit, and is still at home.

Prison'd in a parlour snug and small,
Like bottled wasps upon a southern wall.

Prison'd in a parlour snug and small,
Like bottled wasps upon a southern wall.

Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees,
Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze.

Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees,
Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze.

For 'tis a truth well known to most,
That whatsoever thing is lost,
We seek it, ere read more

For 'tis a truth well known to most,
That whatsoever thing is lost,
We seek it, ere it comes to light,
In every cranny but the right.

Variety's the very spice of life,
That gives it all its flavour.

Variety's the very spice of life,
That gives it all its flavour.