Maxioms by Thomas Hood
Oh, God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!
Oh, God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!
Alas! the fleeting years, how they roll on!
Alas! the fleeting years, how they roll on!
The Autumn is old;
The sere leaves are flying;
He hath gather'd up gold,
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The Autumn is old;
The sere leaves are flying;
He hath gather'd up gold,
And now he is dying;--
Old age, begin sighing!
The Quaker loves an ample brim,
A hat that bows to no Salaam;
And dear the beaver read more
The Quaker loves an ample brim,
A hat that bows to no Salaam;
And dear the beaver is to him
As if it never made a dam.
The lily is all in white, like a saint,
And so is no mate for me.
The lily is all in white, like a saint,
And so is no mate for me.
