Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Nor deem the irrevocable Past,
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
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Nor deem the irrevocable Past,
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
To something nobler we attain.
The sun is set; and in his latest beams
Yon little cloud of ashen gray and gold,
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The sun is set; and in his latest beams
Yon little cloud of ashen gray and gold,
Slowly upon the amber air unrolled,
The falling mantle of the Prophet seems.
He the sweetest of all singers.
He the sweetest of all singers.
Ah! vainest of all things
Is the gratitude of kings.
Ah! vainest of all things
Is the gratitude of kings.
It is Lucifer,
The son of mystery;
And since God suffers him to be,
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It is Lucifer,
The son of mystery;
And since God suffers him to be,
He, too, is God's minister,
And labors for some good
By us not understood.
