Can't I another's face commend, Or to her virtues be a friend, But instantly your forehead louers, As if her merit lessen'd yours?
George Edward MooreBeauty has wings, and too hastily flies, and love, unrewarded, soon sickens and dies.
George Edward MooreAy, rail at gaming - 'tis a rich topic, and affords noble declamation. Go, preach against it in the city - you'll find a congregation in every tavern.
George Edward Moore