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.
The marble index of a mind forever
Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.
The marble index of a mind forever
Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.
Art thou the bird whom Man loves best,
The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
Our little read more
Art thou the bird whom Man loves best,
The pious bird with the scarlet breast,
Our little English Robin;
The bird that comes about our doors
When autumn winds are sobbing?
What is pride? A whizzing rocket that would emulate a star.
What is pride? A whizzing rocket that would emulate a star.
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,
Hangs a thrush that sings loud, it has sung for read more
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,
Hangs a thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years.
