Maxioms by Thomas Hood
A word once spoken cannot be recalled.
A word once spoken cannot be recalled.
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go
Over those hoary crests, divinely led!
Art thou that read more
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go
Over those hoary crests, divinely led!
Art thou that huntress of the silver bow
Fabled of old? Or rather dost thou tread
Those cloudy summits thence to gaze below,
Like the wild chamois from her Alpine snow,
Where hunters never climbed--secure from dread?
Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold.
Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold.
A man perfect to the finger tips.
A man perfect to the finger tips.
Alas! the fleeting years, how they roll on!
Alas! the fleeting years, how they roll on!
