Maxioms by George Crabbe
Through the sharp air a flaky torrent flies,
Mocks the slow sight, and hides the gloomy skies;
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Through the sharp air a flaky torrent flies,
Mocks the slow sight, and hides the gloomy skies;
The fleecy clouds their chilly bosoms bare,
And shed their substance on the floating air.
Now, at a certain time, in pleasant mood,
He tried the luxury of doing good.
Now, at a certain time, in pleasant mood,
He tried the luxury of doing good.
The face the index of a feeling mind.
The face the index of a feeling mind.
But monument themselves memorials need.
But monument themselves memorials need.
