Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Though he was rough, he was kindly.
Though he was rough, he was kindly.
Her silver voice
Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with read more
Her silver voice
Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence.
The joy of meeting not unmixed with pain.
The joy of meeting not unmixed with pain.
Our pleasures and our discontents,
Are rounds by which we may ascend.
Our pleasures and our discontents,
Are rounds by which we may ascend.
Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe.
Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe.
