Maxioms by Thomas Hood
Poor Peggy hawks nosegays from street to street
Till--think of that who find life so sweet!--
She read more
Poor Peggy hawks nosegays from street to street
Till--think of that who find life so sweet!--
She hates the smell of roses!
But who would rush at a benighted man, and give him two black eyes for being blind?.
But who would rush at a benighted man, and give him two black eyes for being blind?.
A man perfect to the finger tips.
A man perfect to the finger tips.
Over the brink of it
Picture it--think of it,
Dissolute man.
Lave in it--drink read more
Over the brink of it
Picture it--think of it,
Dissolute man.
Lave in it--drink of it
Then, if you can.
Father of rosy day,
No more thy clouds of incense rise;
But waking flow'rs,
read more
Father of rosy day,
No more thy clouds of incense rise;
But waking flow'rs,
At morning hours,
Give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies.