Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still like muffled drums are beating read more
Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still like muffled drums are beating Funeral marches to the grave.
Ah, how good it feels! The hand of an old friend.
Ah, how good it feels! The hand of an old friend.
Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves that break upon the idle seashore of the mind.
Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves that break upon the idle seashore of the mind.
Though he was rough, he was kindly.
Though he was rough, he was kindly.
Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking and sinking.
Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking and sinking.
