John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
John Wilbye
There is a jewel which no Indian mines
Can buy, no chymic art can counterfeit;
It makes men rich in greatest poverty;
Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold
The homely whistle to sweet music’s strain:
Seldom it come, to few from heaven sent
That much in little, all in nought, — Content
There is a jewel was written by John Wilbye.