Maxioms by Thomas Campbell
He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe.
He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe.
Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps;
Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps;
She, while read more
Lo! at the couch where infant beauty sleeps;
Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps;
She, while the lovely babe unconscious lies,
Smiles on her slumbering child with pensive eyes.
The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began,
Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.
The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began,
Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.
And hears thy stormy music in the drum!
And hears thy stormy music in the drum!
For there no yew nor cypress spread their glom
But roses blossom'd each rustic tomb.
For there no yew nor cypress spread their glom
But roses blossom'd each rustic tomb.
