Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind in never weary;
The read more
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind in never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was read more
Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem.
The holiest of all holidays are those kept by ourselves in silence and apart; the secret anniversaries of the heart.
The holiest of all holidays are those kept by ourselves in silence and apart; the secret anniversaries of the heart.
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we read more
Saint Augustine! well hast thou said,
That of our vices we can frame
A ladder, if we will but tread
Beneath our feet each deed of shame.
Sang in tones of deep emotion
Songs of love and songs of longing.
Sang in tones of deep emotion
Songs of love and songs of longing.
