GEORGE CRABBE
But love can every fault forgive, Or with a tender look reprove;
And now let naught in memory live But that we meet, and that we love.
��Late Wisdom
WE'VE trod the maze of error round, Long wandering in the winding glade; And now the torch of truth is found,
It only shows us\vhere we strayed By long experience taught, we know
Can rightly judge of friends and foes; Can all the worth of these allow, And all the faults discern in those.
Now, 'tis our boast that we can quell
The wildest passions in their rage, Can their destructive force repel,
And their impetuous wrath assuage. Ah, Virtue' dost thou arm when now
This bold rebellious race are fled ? When all these tyrants rest, and thou
Art warring with the mighty dead?
��496 A Marriage Ring
^HE ring, so worn as you behold, So thin, so pale, it> yet of gold: The passion such it was to prove Worn with life's care, love yet was love.
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