Maxioms by Joanna Baillie
But woman's grief is like a summer storm,
Short as it violent is.
But woman's grief is like a summer storm,
Short as it violent is.
The hushed winds wail with feeble moan
Like infant charity.
The hushed winds wail with feeble moan
Like infant charity.
The tyrant now
Trusts not to men: nightly within his chamber
The watch-dog guards his couch, the read more
The tyrant now
Trusts not to men: nightly within his chamber
The watch-dog guards his couch, the only friend
He now dare trust.
The brave man is not he who feels no fear, For that were stupid and irrational; But he, whose noble read more
The brave man is not he who feels no fear, For that were stupid and irrational; But he, whose noble soul its fears subdues, And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from.
Words of affection, howsoe'er express'd,
The latest spoken still are deem'd the best.
Words of affection, howsoe'er express'd,
The latest spoken still are deem'd the best.
