Maxioms by John Keats
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence.
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence.
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.
And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon.
And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon.
No, no, I'm sure,
My restless spirit never could endure
To brood so long upon one luxury,
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No, no, I'm sure,
My restless spirit never could endure
To brood so long upon one luxury,
Unless it did, though fearfully, espy
A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.
Hear ye not the hum
Of mighty workings?
Hear ye not the hum
Of mighty workings?
