Maxioms by John Greenleaf Whittier
Press bravely onward!--not in vain
Your generous trust in human kind;
The good which bloodshed could not read more
Press bravely onward!--not in vain
Your generous trust in human kind;
The good which bloodshed could not gain
Your peaceful zeal shall find.
Simply duty hath no place for fear.
Simply duty hath no place for fear.
Alas for him who never sees
The stars shine through his cypress-trees
Who, hopeless, lays his dead read more
Alas for him who never sees
The stars shine through his cypress-trees
Who, hopeless, lays his dead away,
Nor looks to see the breaking day
Across the mournful marbles play!
And let these altars, wreathed with flowers
And piled with fruits, awake again
Thanksgivings for the golden read more
And let these altars, wreathed with flowers
And piled with fruits, awake again
Thanksgivings for the golden hours,
The early and the latter rain!
They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, That all of thee we loved and cherished Has with thy summer roses read more
They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, That all of thee we loved and cherished Has with thy summer roses perished; And left, as its young beauty fled, An ashen memory in its stead.
