You May Also Like / View all maxioms
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud
And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
And read more
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud
And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost,
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit,
And so he'll die; and rising so again,
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven
I shall not know him.
In life there are meetings which seem
Like a fate.
In life there are meetings which seem
Like a fate.
Like driftwood spares which meet and pass
Upon the boundless ocean-plain,
So on the sea of life, read more
Like driftwood spares which meet and pass
Upon the boundless ocean-plain,
So on the sea of life, alas!
Man nears man, meets, and leaves again.
As drifting logs of wood may haply meet
On ocean's waters surging to and fro,
And having read more
As drifting logs of wood may haply meet
On ocean's waters surging to and fro,
And having met, drift once again apart,
So, fleeting is the intercourse of men.
E'en as a traveler meeting with the shade
Of some o'erhung tree, awhile reposes,
Then leaves its shelter to pursue his ways,
So men meet friends, then part with them for ever.
When shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
When shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
As vessels starting from ports thousands of miles apart pass
close to each other in the naked breadth of read more
As vessels starting from ports thousands of miles apart pass
close to each other in the naked breadth of the ocean, nay,
sometimes even touch in the dark.
Two lives that once part, are as ships that divide
When, moment on moment, there rushes between
read more
Two lives that once part, are as ships that divide
When, moment on moment, there rushes between
The one and the other, a sea;--
Ah, never can fall from the days that have been
A gleam on the years that shall be!
We twain have met like the ships upon the sea,
Who behold an hour's converse, so short, so sweet:
read more
We twain have met like the ships upon the sea,
Who behold an hour's converse, so short, so sweet:
One little hour! and then, away they speed
On lonely paths, through mist, and cloud, and foam,
To meet no more.