Maxioms by Lord Alfred Tennyson
And grasps the skirts of happy chance,
And breasts the blows of circumstance.
And grasps the skirts of happy chance,
And breasts the blows of circumstance.
Give place to your superiors.
Give place to your superiors.
My people too were scared with eerie sounds,
A footstep, a low throbbing in the walls.
A read more
My people too were scared with eerie sounds,
A footstep, a low throbbing in the walls.
A noise of falling weights that never fell,
Weird whispers, bells that rang without a hand,
Door-handles turn'd when none was at the door,
And bolted doors that open'd of themselves;
And one betwixt the dark and light had seen
Her, bending by the cradle of her babe.
Not once or twice in our rough island story,
The path of duty was the way to glory.
Not once or twice in our rough island story,
The path of duty was the way to glory.
Weakness to be wroth with weakness! woman's pleasure, woman's
pain--
Nature made them blinder motions bounded in a read more
Weakness to be wroth with weakness! woman's pleasure, woman's
pain--
Nature made them blinder motions bounded in a shallower brain.
