Maxioms by Thomas Gray
Loose his beard, and hoary hair
Stream's, like a meteor, to the troubled air.
Loose his beard, and hoary hair
Stream's, like a meteor, to the troubled air.
. . where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.
. . where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.
The still small voice of gratitude.
The still small voice of gratitude.
Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind.
Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind.
Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.
Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.
