John Armstrong (poet)

There are, while human miseries abound,Without one hour of sickness or disgust.

— John Armstrong (poet)

Weak withering age no rigid law forbids,Gliblier to play.

— John Armstrong (poet)

This restless worldTo learn to bear is easier than to shun.

— John Armstrong (poet)

How happy he whose toilOf Sleep with double nutriment descend.

— John Armstrong (poet)

'Tis not for mortals always to be blest.

— John Armstrong (poet)

Of right and wrong he taughtAnd (strange to tell) he practis'd what he preach'd.

— John Armstrong (poet)

Music exalts each joy, allays each grief,Subdues the rage of poison, and the plague.

— John Armstrong (poet)