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Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance.
. . . .
And, when the echoes had read more

Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance.
. . . .
And, when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the
silence.

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When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music.

When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music.

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Thy fate is the common fate of all; Into each life some rain must fall.

Thy fate is the common fate of all; Into each life some rain must fall.

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A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
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A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.

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The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the read more

The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the Graces, but an old, mouldering house, full of gloom and haunted by ghosts.

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