Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Even the blackest of them all, the crow,
Renders good service as your man-at-arms,
Crushing the beetle read more
Even the blackest of them all, the crow,
Renders good service as your man-at-arms,
Crushing the beetle in his coat of mail,
And crying havoc on the slug and snail.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,
Shepherds at the grange,
Where the Babe was born,
Sang with many a change,
read more
Shepherds at the grange,
Where the Babe was born,
Sang with many a change,
Christmas carols until morn.
To the red rising moon, and loud and deep
The nightingale is singing from the steep.
To the red rising moon, and loud and deep
The nightingale is singing from the steep.
The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark.
The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark.
I love the season well
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded read more
I love the season well
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming of storms.
