Maxioms by William Morris
O thrush, your song is passing sweet,
But never a song that you have sung
Is half read more
O thrush, your song is passing sweet,
But never a song that you have sung
Is half so sweet as thrushes sang
When my dear love and I were young.
have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.
have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.
Not on one strand are all life's jewels strung.
Not on one strand are all life's jewels strung.
What is this the sound and rumor? What is this that all men hear, Like the wind in hollow valleys read more
What is this the sound and rumor? What is this that all men hear, Like the wind in hollow valleys when the storm is drawing near, Like the rolling of the ocean in the eventide of fear? 'Tis the people marching on
March: Its tree, Juniper.
March: Its tree, Juniper.
