Maxioms by Rupert Brooke
Yet, behind the night,
Waits for the great unborn, somewhere afar,
Some white tremendous daybreak.
Yet, behind the night,
Waits for the great unborn, somewhere afar,
Some white tremendous daybreak.
One may not doubt that, somehow Good
Shall come of Water and of Mud;
And sure, the read more
One may not doubt that, somehow Good
Shall come of Water and of Mud;
And sure, the reverent eye must see
A purpose in Liquidity.
