Maxioms by Oliver Goldsmith
Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.
Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.
Like the bee, we should make our industry our amusement.
Like the bee, we should make our industry our amusement.
And the weak soul, within itself unbless'd,
Leans for all pleasure on another's breast.
And the weak soul, within itself unbless'd,
Leans for all pleasure on another's breast.
Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
I see the lords of humankind pass by.
Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
I see the lords of humankind pass by.
But winter lingering chills the lap of May.
But winter lingering chills the lap of May.
