Maxioms by Thomas Gray
When iron scourge, and tort'ring hour
The bad affright, afflict the best.
When iron scourge, and tort'ring hour
The bad affright, afflict the best.
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
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The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
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The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike th' inevitable hour,
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife.
From Helicon's harmonious springs
A thousand rills their mazy progress take.
From Helicon's harmonious springs
A thousand rills their mazy progress take.
