Maxioms by William Wordsworth
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
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.
Brook! whose society the poet seeks,
Intent his wasted spirits to renew;
And whom the curious painter read more
Brook! whose society the poet seeks,
Intent his wasted spirits to renew;
And whom the curious painter doth pursue
Through rocky passes, among flowery creeks,
And tracks thee dancing down thy water-breaks.
The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift,
That no philosophy can lift.
The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift,
That no philosophy can lift.
What is pride? A whizzing rocket that would emulate a star.
What is pride? A whizzing rocket that would emulate a star.
