The Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations

Every quotation a nineteenth-century speaker or writer might want, grouped under its subject, with the author, the date and the source given as exactly as Hoyt could manage.

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Quotes by C. P. Cranch

7 quotations from The Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations (1896), with the subject each one is filed under.

One day in the bluest of summer weather, Sketching under a whispering oak, I heard five bobolinks laughing together, Over some ornithological joke.— filed under Birds-Canary
When Nature had made all her birds, With no more cares to think on, She gave a rippling laugh and out There flew a Bobolinkon.— filed under Birds-Canary
Thought is deeper than all speech, Feeling deeper than all thought; Souls to souls can never teach What unto themselves was taught.— filed under Festivities
(Companion Poem.) Magnolia Grandiflora. Magnolia. Majestic flower! How purely beautiful Thou art, as rising from thy bower of green, Those dark and glossy leaves so thick and full, Thou standest like a high-born forest queen Among thy maidens clustering round so fair;- I love to watch thy sculptured form unfolding, And look into thy depths, to image there. A fairy cavern, and while thus beholding, And while thy breeze floats o'er thee, matchless flower, I breathe the perfume, delicate and strong, That comes like incense from thy petal-bower; My fancy roams those southern woods along, Beneath that glorious tree, where deep among The unsunned leaves thy large white flowercups hung!— filed under Flowers-Lotus
C. December. December drops no weak, relenting tear, By our fond Summer sympathies ensnared, Nor from the perfect circle of the year Can even Winter's crystal gems be spared.— filed under Months-November
P. If there comes a little thaw, Still the air is chill and raw, Here and there a patch of snow, Dirtier than the ground below, Dribbles down a marshy flood; Ankle-deep you stick in mud In the meadows while you sing, "This is Spring."— filed under Sculpture
When great poets sing, Into the night new constellations spring, With music in the air that dulls the craft Of rhetoric. So when Shakespeare sang or laughed The world with long, sweet Alpine echoes thrilled Voiceless to scholars' tongues no muse had filled With melody divine.— filed under Shakespeare
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