Maxioms by William Wordsworth
O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live.
O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live.
Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast
False fires, that others may be lost.
Or shipwrecked, kindles on the coast
False fires, that others may be lost.
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A maid whom there were none read more
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love.
