Maxioms by Thomas Campbell
What's hallowed ground? Has earth a clod
Its Maker mean'd not should be trod
By man, the read more
What's hallowed ground? Has earth a clod
Its Maker mean'd not should be trod
By man, the image of his God,
Erect and free,
Unscourged by Superstition's rod.
But, said as angels for the good man's sin,
Weep to record, and blush to give it in.
But, said as angels for the good man's sin,
Weep to record, and blush to give it in.
Ye field flowers! the gardens eclipse you 'tis true:
Yet wildings of nature, I dote upon you,
read more
Ye field flowers! the gardens eclipse you 'tis true:
Yet wildings of nature, I dote upon you,
For ye waft me to summers of old,
When the earth teem'd around me with fairy delight,
And when daisies and buttercups gladden'd my sight,
Like treasures of silver and gold.
