Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
There is no grief like the grief that does not speak
There is no grief like the grief that does not speak
Feet that run on willing errands!
Feet that run on willing errands!
Romance is the poetry of literature.
Romance is the poetry of literature.
And the hooded clouds, like friars,
Tell their beads in drops of rain.
And the hooded clouds, like friars,
Tell their beads in drops of rain.
Every human heart is human.
Every human heart is human.
