Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I heard the trailing garments of the Night
Sweep through her marble halls.
I heard the trailing garments of the Night
Sweep through her marble halls.
The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the read more
The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the Graces, but an old, mouldering house, full of gloom and haunted by ghosts.
The world loves a spice of wickedness.
The world loves a spice of wickedness.
At first laying down, as a fact fundamental,
That nothing with God can be accidental.
At first laying down, as a fact fundamental,
That nothing with God can be accidental.
To be left alone, and face to face with my own crime, had been just retribution.
To be left alone, and face to face with my own crime, had been just retribution.
