Maxioms by William Cowper
The Frenchman, easy, debonair, and brisk,
Give him his lass, his fiddle, and his frisk,
Is always read more
The Frenchman, easy, debonair, and brisk,
Give him his lass, his fiddle, and his frisk,
Is always happy, reign whoever may,
And laughs the sense of mis'ry far away.
I praise the Frenchman; his remark was shrewd,--
"How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude."
But grant read more
I praise the Frenchman; his remark was shrewd,--
"How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude."
But grant me still a friend in my retreat,
Whom I may whisper--Solitude is sweet.
An epigram is but a feeble thing - With straw in tail, stuck there by way of sting
An epigram is but a feeble thing - With straw in tail, stuck there by way of sting
A hat not much worse for wear.
A hat not much worse for wear.
We bear our shades about us; self-deprived
Of other screen, the thin umbrella spread,
And range an read more
We bear our shades about us; self-deprived
Of other screen, the thin umbrella spread,
And range an Indian waste without a tree.
