Maxioms by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
A mother is a mother still,
The holiest thing alive.
A mother is a mother still,
The holiest thing alive.
Never, believe me,
Appear the Immortals,
Never alone.
Never, believe me,
Appear the Immortals,
Never alone.
Language is the armory of the human mind, and at once contains the trophies of its past and the weapons read more
Language is the armory of the human mind, and at once contains the trophies of its past and the weapons of its future conquests.
Pity is best taught by fellowship in woe.
Pity is best taught by fellowship in woe.
O sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary Queen the praise read more
O sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary Queen the praise be given!
She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven
That slid into my soul.
