Maxioms by Edwin Arnold
Pity and need
Make all flesh kin. There in no caste in blood.
Pity and need
Make all flesh kin. There in no caste in blood.
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.
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.
