Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries read more
The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart,
When the full river of feeling overflows;--
The happy days unclouded to their close;
The sudden joys that our of darkness start
As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart
Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!
Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted.
Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted.
Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said
Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days
That read more
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.
Being all fashioned of the self-same dust,
Let us be merciful as well as just.
Being all fashioned of the self-same dust,
Let us be merciful as well as just.
They sing, they will pay.
[Fr., Ils chantent, ils payeront.]
They sing, they will pay.
[Fr., Ils chantent, ils payeront.]
