Maxioms by John Masefield
The corn that makes the holy bread
By which the soul of man is fed,
The holy read more
The corn that makes the holy bread
By which the soul of man is fed,
The holy bread, the food unpriced,
Thy everlasting mercy, Christ.
It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;
I never hear the west wind but tears read more
It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;
I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes.
For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills,
And April's in the West wind, and daffodils.
