Maxioms by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
No bird has ever uttered note That was not in some first bird's throat; Since Eden's freshness and man's read more
No bird has ever uttered note That was not in some first bird's throat; Since Eden's freshness and man's fall No rose has been original.
What is lovely never dies,
But passes into other loveliness,
Star-dust, or sea-foam, flower or winged air.
What is lovely never dies,
But passes into other loveliness,
Star-dust, or sea-foam, flower or winged air.
Somewhere, in desolate, wind-swept space,
In twilight land, in no man's land,
Two hurrying shapes met face read more
Somewhere, in desolate, wind-swept space,
In twilight land, in no man's land,
Two hurrying shapes met face to face
And bade each other stand.
"And who are you?" cried one, a-gape,
Shuddering in the glimmering light.
"I know not," said the second shape,
"I only died last night."
These Winter nights against my window-pane
Nature with busy pencil draws designs
Of ferns and blossoms and read more
These Winter nights against my window-pane
Nature with busy pencil draws designs
Of ferns and blossoms and fine spray of pines,
Oak-leaf and acorn and fantastic vines,
Which she will make when summer comes again--
Quaint arabesques in argent, flat and cold,
Like curious Chinese etchings.
We weep when we are born,
Not when we die!
We weep when we are born,
Not when we die!
