Maxioms by William Wordsworth
Thoughts shut up want air,
And spoil like bales unopen'd to the sun.
Thoughts shut up want air,
And spoil like bales unopen'd to the sun.
The feather, whence the pen
Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men,
Dropped from read more
The feather, whence the pen
Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men,
Dropped from an Angel's wing.
He could afford to suffer
With those whom he saw suffer.
He could afford to suffer
With those whom he saw suffer.
A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays,
And confident to-morrows.
A man he seems of cheerful yesterdays,
And confident to-morrows.
From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.
From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed.
