Maxioms by Thomas Gray
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The read more
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife.
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife.
Loose his beard, and hoary hair
Stream's, like a meteor, to the troubled air.
Loose his beard, and hoary hair
Stream's, like a meteor, to the troubled air.
Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.
Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.
Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind.
Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind.
