Maxioms by James Beattie
Let those deplore their doom,
Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn:
But lofty souls, who read more
Let those deplore their doom,
Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn:
But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb,
Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn.
On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses are blending,
And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.
On the cold cheek of Death smiles and roses are blending,
And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.
At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
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At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill
And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove.
He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man.
He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man.
Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
And sing enamour'd of the nut-brown maid.
Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
And sing enamour'd of the nut-brown maid.
