Maxioms by Philip James Bailey
Leave the poor
Some time for self-improvement. Let them not
Be forced to grind the bones out read more
Leave the poor
Some time for self-improvement. Let them not
Be forced to grind the bones out of their arms
For bread, but have some space to think and feel
Like moral and immortal creatures.
Dewdrops, Nature's tears, which she
Sheds in her own breast for the fair which die.
The sun read more
Dewdrops, Nature's tears, which she
Sheds in her own breast for the fair which die.
The sun insists on gladness; but at night,
When he is gone, poor Nature loves to weep.
Wan night, the shadow goer, came stepping in.
Wan night, the shadow goer, came stepping in.
The course of Nature seems a course of Death,
And nothingness the whole substantial thing.
The course of Nature seems a course of Death,
And nothingness the whole substantial thing.
Hell is the wrath of God--His hate of sin.
Hell is the wrath of God--His hate of sin.