Maxioms by James Russell Lowell
Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how.
Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how.
Light is the symbol of truth.
Light is the symbol of truth.
For there's nothing we read of in torture's inventions,
Like a well-meaning dunce, with the best of intentions.
For there's nothing we read of in torture's inventions,
Like a well-meaning dunce, with the best of intentions.
New occasions teach new duties, time makes ancient good uncouth;
They must upward still and onward, who would keep read more
New occasions teach new duties, time makes ancient good uncouth;
They must upward still and onward, who would keep abreast of
truth.
Listen! O, listen!
Here come the hum the golden bees
Underneath full blossomed trees,
read more
Listen! O, listen!
Here come the hum the golden bees
Underneath full blossomed trees,
At once with glowing fruit and flowers crowned.
