There is a pleasure in affecting affectation.
There is a pleasure in affecting affectation.
Fly not yet 't is just the hour When pleasure, like the midnight flower That scorns the eye of vulgar light, Begins to bloom for sons of night And maids who love the moon.
Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, And multiply each through endless years, One minute of heaven is worth them all.
Separate from the pleasure of your company, I don't much care if I never see another mountain in my life.
What a dead thing is a clock, with its ponderous embowelments of lead and brass, its pert or solemn dullness of communication, compared with the simple altar-like structure and silent heart-language of the old sundials It stood as the garden god of Christian gardens. Why is it almost everywhere vanished If its business-use be superseded by more elaborate inventions, its moral uses, its beauty, might have pleaded for its continuance. It spoke of moderate labours, of pleasures not protracted after sunset, of temperance, and good hours. It was the primitive clock, the horologue of the first world. Adam could scare have missed it in Paradise.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories