Dame Fortune is a fickle gipsy, And always blind, and often tipsy; Sometimes for years and years together, She ’ll bless you with the sunniest weather, Bestowing honour, pudding, pence, You can’t imagine why or whence; Then in a moment Presto, pass! Your joys are withered like the grass.
-Winthrop Mackworth Praed
Select a background
More quotes by Winthrop Mackworth Praed
Popular Authors
A curated listing of popular authors.