Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
They sing, they will pay.
[Fr., Ils chantent, ils payeront.]
They sing, they will pay.
[Fr., Ils chantent, ils payeront.]
After a day of cloud and wind and rain
Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again,
And read more
After a day of cloud and wind and rain
Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again,
And touching all the darksome woods with light,
Smiles on the fields until they laugh and sing,
Then like a ruby from the horizon's ring,
Drops down into the night.
A feeling of sadness and longing that is not akin to pain, and resembles sorrow only as the mist resembles read more
A feeling of sadness and longing that is not akin to pain, and resembles sorrow only as the mist resembles the rain.
This is the forest primeval.
This is the forest primeval.
Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still like muffled drums are beating read more
Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still like muffled drums are beating Funeral marches to the grave.
