Maxioms by Alexander Smith
Sweet April's tears,
Dead on the hem of May.
Sweet April's tears,
Dead on the hem of May.
Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.
Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.
We twain have met like the ships upon the sea,
Who behold an hour's converse, so short, so sweet:
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We twain have met like the ships upon the sea,
Who behold an hour's converse, so short, so sweet:
One little hour! and then, away they speed
On lonely paths, through mist, and cloud, and foam,
To meet no more.
