Maxioms by Thomas Hood
Sweet are the little brooks that run
O'er pebbles glancing in the sun,
Singing in soothing tones.
Sweet are the little brooks that run
O'er pebbles glancing in the sun,
Singing in soothing tones.
A man of refined taste and judgment.
A man of refined taste and judgment.
Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams,
Unnatural and full of contradictions;
Yet others of read more
Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams,
Unnatural and full of contradictions;
Yet others of our most romantic schemes
Are something more than fictions.
A man perfect to the finger tips.
A man perfect to the finger tips.
It is not linen you're wearing out,
But human creatures' lives.
It is not linen you're wearing out,
But human creatures' lives.
