Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Like a French poem is life; being only perfect in structure when with the masculine rhymes mingled the feminine are.
Like a French poem is life; being only perfect in structure when with the masculine rhymes mingled the feminine are.
The swallow is come!
The swallow is come!
O, fair are the seasons, and light
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The swallow is come!
The swallow is come!
O, fair are the seasons, and light
Are the days that she brings,
With her dusky wings,
And her bosom snowy white!
Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said
Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days
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Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said
Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days
That are no more, and shall no more return.
Thou hast but taken up thy lamp and gone to bed;
I stay a little longer, as one stays
To cover up the embers that still burn.
He spake well who said that graves are the footprints of angels.
He spake well who said that graves are the footprints of angels.
This is the forest primeval.
This is the forest primeval.
