Maxioms by John Keats
And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon.
And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon.
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence.
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence.
Oh for a life of sensations rather than thoughts.
Oh for a life of sensations rather than thoughts.
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
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When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the grasshopper's--he takes the lead
In summer luxury--he has never done
With his delights, for when tired out with fun,
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.
