You May Also Like / View all maxioms
Creator Venus, genial power of love,
The bliss of men below, and gods above!
Beneath the sliding read more
Creator Venus, genial power of love,
The bliss of men below, and gods above!
Beneath the sliding sun thou runn'st thy race,
Dost fairest shine, and best become thy place;
For thee the winds their eastern blasts forbear,
Thy mouth reveals the spring, and opens all the year;
Thee, goddess, thee, the storms of winter fly,
Earth smiles with flowers renewing, laughs the sky.
There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town,
read more
There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town,
There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the yellow god forever gazes down.
Cupid is a casuist, a mystic, and a cabalist,--
Can your lurking thought surprise,
And interpret your read more
Cupid is a casuist, a mystic, and a cabalist,--
Can your lurking thought surprise,
And interpret your device,
. . . .
All things wait for and divine him,--
How shall I dare to malign him?
Two goddesses now must Cyprus adore;
The Muses are ten, and the Graces are four;
Stella's wit read more
Two goddesses now must Cyprus adore;
The Muses are ten, and the Graces are four;
Stella's wit is so charming, so sweet her fair face,
She shines a new Venus, a Muse, and a Grace.
And when they heard these sayings, they were full of wrath, and
cried out, saying, Great is Diana of read more
And when they heard these sayings, they were full of wrath, and
cried out, saying, Great is Diana of the Ephesians.
Yet verily these issues lie on the lap of the gods.
Yet verily these issues lie on the lap of the gods.
War is the father of us all, King of all. Some it makes gods, some it makes men, some it read more
War is the father of us all, King of all. Some it makes gods, some it makes men, some it makes slaves, some free.
And that dismal cry rose slowly
And sank slowly through the air,
Full of spirit's melancholy
read more
And that dismal cry rose slowly
And sank slowly through the air,
Full of spirit's melancholy
And eternity's despair!
And they heart the words it said--
Pan is dead! great Pan is dead!
Pan, Pan is dead!
Shakes his ambroisal curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god.
Shakes his ambroisal curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god.