Maxioms by Eliza Cook
Though language forms the preacher, 'Tis "good works" make the man.
Though language forms the preacher, 'Tis "good works" make the man.
On what strange stuff Ambition feeds!
On what strange stuff Ambition feeds!
The coward wretch whose hand and heart can bear to torture ought below, Is ever first to quail and start read more
The coward wretch whose hand and heart can bear to torture ought below, Is ever first to quail and start from the slightest pain or equal foe.
Oh, how cruelly sweet are the echoes that start
When Memory plays an old tune on the heart!
Oh, how cruelly sweet are the echoes that start
When Memory plays an old tune on the heart!
'Tis a glorious charter, deny it who can,
That's breathed in the words, "I'm an Englishman."
'Tis a glorious charter, deny it who can,
That's breathed in the words, "I'm an Englishman."
