Maxioms by James Beattie
Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down;
Where a green grassy turf is all I crave,
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Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down;
Where a green grassy turf is all I crave,
With here and there a violet bestrown,
Fast by a brook or fountain's murmuring wave;
And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave.
And, lo! in the dark east, expanded high,
The rainbow brightens to the setting Sun.
And, lo! in the dark east, expanded high,
The rainbow brightens to the setting Sun.
How sweet the words of Truth, breath'd from the lips of Love.
How sweet the words of Truth, breath'd from the lips of Love.
Changed to a lapwing by th' avenging god,
He made the barren waste his lone abode,
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Changed to a lapwing by th' avenging god,
He made the barren waste his lone abode,
And oft on soaring pinions hover'd o'er
The lofty palace then his own no more.
