Maxioms by Lord Alfred Tennyson
But over all things brooding slept
The quiet sense of something lost.
But over all things brooding slept
The quiet sense of something lost.
As the many-winter'd crow that leads the clanging rookery home.
As the many-winter'd crow that leads the clanging rookery home.
I give not gold for mere expectations.
I give not gold for mere expectations.
Ah! well away!
Seasons flower and fade.
Ah! well away!
Seasons flower and fade.
We issued gorged with knowledge, and I spoke:
"Why, Sirs, they do all this as well as we."
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We issued gorged with knowledge, and I spoke:
"Why, Sirs, they do all this as well as we."
"They hunt old trails" said Cyril, "very well;
But when did woman ever yet invent?"
