Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
So when a great man dies,
For years beyond our ken,
The light he leaves behind him read more
So when a great man dies,
For years beyond our ken,
The light he leaves behind him lies
Upon the paths of men.
This is the forest primeval.
This is the forest primeval.
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.
Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves that break upon the idle seashore of the mind.
Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves that break upon the idle seashore of the mind.
Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted.
Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted.
