Maxioms by Lord Alfred Tennyson
And ye talk together still,
In the language wherewith Spring
Letters cowslips on the hill.
And ye talk together still,
In the language wherewith Spring
Letters cowslips on the hill.
'Tis gone: a thousand such have slipt
Away from my embraces:
And fallen into the dusty crypt
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'Tis gone: a thousand such have slipt
Away from my embraces:
And fallen into the dusty crypt
Of darken'd forms and faces.
All men have more consideration for themselves than for others.
All men have more consideration for themselves than for others.
And wheresoe'er thou move, good luck
Shall fling her old shoe after.
And wheresoe'er thou move, good luck
Shall fling her old shoe after.
Treading softly like a thief,
Lest the harsh shingle should grate underfoot,
And feeling all along the read more
Treading softly like a thief,
Lest the harsh shingle should grate underfoot,
And feeling all along the garden wall.
