Maxioms by Edwin Arnold
A little rain will fill
The lily's cup which hardly moists the field.
A little rain will fill
The lily's cup which hardly moists the field.
We are the voices of the wandering wind,
Which moan for rest and rest can never find;
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We are the voices of the wandering wind,
Which moan for rest and rest can never find;
Lo! as the wind is so is mortal life,
A moan, a sigh, a sob, a storm, a strife.
The Dewdrop slips into the shining sea!
The Dewdrop slips into the shining sea!
The sunbeams dropped
Their gold, and, passing in porch and niche,
Softened to shadows, silvery, pale, and read more
The sunbeams dropped
Their gold, and, passing in porch and niche,
Softened to shadows, silvery, pale, and dim,
As if the very Day paused and grew Eve.
Like a plank of driftwood
Tossed on the watery main,
Another plank encountered,
Meets, read more
Like a plank of driftwood
Tossed on the watery main,
Another plank encountered,
Meets, touches, parts again;
So tossed, and drifting ever,
On life's unresting sea,
Men meet, and greet, and sever,
Parting eternally.
