Maxioms by Rose Terry Cooke
Till the rose's lips grow pale
With her sighs.
Till the rose's lips grow pale
With her sighs.
I wish I might a rose-bud grow
And thou wouldst cull me from the bower.
To place read more
I wish I might a rose-bud grow
And thou wouldst cull me from the bower.
To place me on that breast of snow
Where I should bloom a wintry flower.
"Take courage, soul!
Hold not thy strength in vain!
With faith o'ercome the steeps
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"Take courage, soul!
Hold not thy strength in vain!
With faith o'ercome the steeps
Thy God hath set for thee.
Beyond the Alpine summits of great pain
Lieth thine Italy."
