Maxioms by Robert Pollok
On his weary couch
Fat Luxury, sick of the night's debauch,
Lay groaning, fretful at the obtrusive read more
On his weary couch
Fat Luxury, sick of the night's debauch,
Lay groaning, fretful at the obtrusive beam
That through his lattice peeped derisively.
Get money, money still!
And then let virtue follow, if she will.
Get money, money still!
And then let virtue follow, if she will.
'Twas slander filled her mouth with lying words;
Slander, the foulest whelp of Sin.
'Twas slander filled her mouth with lying words;
Slander, the foulest whelp of Sin.
He sat among his bags, and, with a look
Which hell might be ashamed of, drove the poor
read more
He sat among his bags, and, with a look
Which hell might be ashamed of, drove the poor
Away unalmed; and midst abundance died--
Sorest of evils!--died of utter want.
A fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind.
A fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind.
