Maxioms by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind.
The frost performs its secret ministry,
Unhelped by any wind.
Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God.
Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God.
Remorse is as the heart in which it grows;
If that be gentle, it drops balmy dews
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Remorse is as the heart in which it grows;
If that be gentle, it drops balmy dews
Of true repentance; but if proud and gloomy,
It is the poison tree, that pierced to the inmost,
Weeps only tears of poison.
What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters
compared to what lies within us.
What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters
compared to what lies within us.
So lonely 'twas that God himself Scarce seemed there to be.
So lonely 'twas that God himself Scarce seemed there to be.
