Maxioms by Thomas Gray
Chill penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Chill penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
To warm their little loves the birds complain.
To warm their little loves the birds complain.
To brisk notes in cadence beating
Glance their many-twinkling feet.
To brisk notes in cadence beating
Glance their many-twinkling feet.
