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 D. M. Mulock

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

See now, that radiant bow of pillared fires Spanning the hills like dawn, until they lie In soft tranquillity, And all night's ghastly glooms asunder roll.— filed under Authority
A slender young Blackbird built in a thorntree: A spruce little fellow as ever could be; His bill was so yellow, his feathers so black, So long was his tail, and so glossy his back, That good Mrs. B., who sat hatching her eggs, And only just left them to stretch her poor legs, And pick for a minute the worm she preferred, Thought there never was seen such a beautiful bird.— filed under Birds-Blackbird
with Additional Poems. To a Canary Bird Sing away, ay, sing away, Merry little bird Always gayest of the gay, Though a woodland roundelay You ne'er sung nor heard; Though your life from youth to age Passes in a narrow cage.— filed under Birds-Canary
Gull, Sea. Lack-lustre eye, and idle wing, And smirched breast that skims no more, White as the foam itself, the wave- Hast thou not even a grave Upon the dreary shore, Forlorn, forsaken thing?— filed under Birds-Falcon
I said to the sky-poised Lark: "Hark-hark! Thy note is more loud and free Because there lies safe for thee A little nest on the ground."— filed under Birds-Lark
I said to the Nightingale; "Hail, all hail! Pierce with thy trill the dark, Like a glittering music-spark, When the earth grows pale and dumb."— filed under Birds-Nightingale
Poor robin, driven in by rain-storms wild To lie submissive under household hands With beating heart that no love understands And scared eye, like a child Who only knows that he is all alone And summer's gone.— filed under Birds-Robin
In Sickness, Rook. Those Rooks, dear, from morning till night They seem to do nothing but quarrel and fight, And wrangle and jangle, and plunder.— filed under Birds-Sea Bird
I said to the brown, brown thrush: "Hush-hush! Through the wood's full strains I hear Thy monotonė deep and clear, Like a sound amid sounds most fine."— filed under Birds-Thrush
I took the wren's nest ;- Heaven forgive me! Its merry architects so small Had scarcely finished their wee hall, That, empty still, and neat and fair, Hung idly in the summer air.— filed under Birthday
Bright Must Fade. Alack, this world Is full of change, change, change-nothing but change!— filed under Change
Nicholas. God rest ye, little children; let nothing you affright, For Jesus Christ, your Saviour, was born this happy night; Along the hills of Galilee the white flocks sleeping lay, When Christ, the Child of Nazareth, was born on Christmas day.— filed under Christmas
It is the Christmas time: And up and down 'twixt heaven and earth, In glorious grief and solemn mirth, The shining angels climb.— filed under Christmas
Worshippers. O, how glorious is Noon-day! With the cool large shadows lying Underneath the giant forest, The far hill-tops towering dimly O'er the conquered plains below.— filed under Day
Two hands upon the breast, And labor's done; Two pale feet cross'd in rest, The race is won.— filed under Death
Longfellow's trans. They only fall, that strive to move, Or lose, that care to keep. OWEN MEREDITH (Lord Lytton)-The Wanderer. Bk. III. Futility. St. 6. Unseen hands delay The coming of what oft seems close in ken, And, contrary, the moment, when we say "'Twill never come!" comes on us even then. OWEN MEREDITH (Lord Lytton)- Thomas Muntzer to Martin Luther. L. 382. We are but as the instrument of Heaven. Our work is not design, but destiny. OWEN MEREDITH (Lord Lytton)- Clytemnestra. Pt. XIX. We are what we must And not what we would be. I know that one hour Assures not another. The will and the power Are diverse. OWEN MEREDITH (Lord Lytton)- Lucile. Pt. I. Canto III. St. 19. The irrevocable Hand That opes the year's fair gate, doth ope and shut The portals of our earthly destinies; We walk through blindfold, and the noiseless doors Close after us, forever.— filed under Destiny
O how grandly cometh Even, Sitting on the mountain summit, Purple-vestured, grave, and silent, Watching o'er the dewy valleys, Like a good king near his end.— filed under Evening
With faces like dead lovers who died true.— filed under Face
The buttercups across the field Made sunshine rifts of splendor.— filed under Flowers-Azalea
Young Dandelion On a hedge-side, Said young Dandelion, Who'll be my bride? Said young Dandelion With a sweet air, I have my eye on Miss Daisy fair.— filed under Flowers-Daisy
Tombs. Maxim VI. Some men treat the God of their fathers as they treat their father's friend. They do not deny him; by no means: they only deny themselves to him, when he is good enough to call upon them. J. C. AND A. W. HARE-Guesses at Truth. Forgotten? No, we never do forget: We let the years go; wash them clean with tears, Leave them to bleach out in the open day, Or lock them careful by, like dead friends' clothes, Till we shall dare unfold them without pain, - But we forget not, never can forget.— filed under Marie Antoinette
As we sail through life towards death, Bound unto the same port-heaven,一 Friend, what years could us divide?— filed under Friends
By the fireside still the light is shining, The children's arms round the parents twining. From love so sweet, O who would roam? Be it ever so homely, home is home.— filed under Home
Immortality Alone could teach this mortal how to die.— filed under Immortality
Duty's a slave that keeps the keys, But Love, the master goes in and out Of his goodly chambers with song and shout, Just as he please-just as he please.— filed under Love
Drink, my jolly lads, drink with discerning, Wedlock's a lane where there is no turning; Never was owl more blind than a lover, Drink and be merry, lads, half seas over.— filed under Matrimony
Sweet April-time-O cruel April-time! Year after year returning, with a brow Of promise, and red lips with longing paled, And backward-hidden hands that clutch the joys Of vanished springs, like flowers.— filed under Months-April
on the Moon's Light. Hail, pallid crescent, hail! Let me look on thee where thou sitt'st for aye Like memory-ghastly in the glare of day, But in the evening, light.— filed under Monuments
Morning. MOON (THE). No rest-no dark. Hour after hour that passionless bright face Climbs up the desolate blue.— filed under Monuments
O how beautiful is morning! How the sunbeams strike the daisies And the kingcups fill the meadow Like a golden-shielded army Marching to the uplands fair.— filed under Morning
There never was night that had no morn. S.— filed under Night
Lo! all life this truth declares, Laborare est orare; And the whole earth rings with prayers.— filed under Prayer
Whose very looks are prayers.— filed under Prayer
Autumn to winter, winter into spring, Spring into summer, summer into fall, - So rolls the changing year, and so we change; Motion so swift, we know not that we move.— filed under Scripture
Autumn Into earth's lap does throw Brown apples gay in a game of play, As the equinoctials blow.— filed under Sows
A secret at home is like rocks under tide.— filed under Secrecy
Subjects. Thoughts on Conversation. Silence sweeter is than speech.— filed under Silence
Song the Harem. Song. To-morrow is, ah, whose?— filed under To-Morrow
Mulberry Morus. O, the mulberry-tree is of trees the queen! Bare long after the rest are green; But as time steals onwards, while none perceives Slowly she clothes herself with leaves- Hides her fruit under them, hard to find. * * * * * * But by and by, when the flowers grow few And the fruits are dwindling and small to view- Out she comes in her matron grace With the purple myriads of her race; Full of plenty from root to crown, Showering plenty her feet adown. While far over head hang gorgeously Large luscious berries of sanguine dye, For the best grows highest, always highest, Upon the mulberry-tree.— filed under Trees And Plants-Linden
O, the sweet, sweet twilight just before the time of rest, When the black clouds are driven away, and the stormy winds suppressed.— filed under Twilight
Loud wind, strong wind, sweeping o'er the mountains, Fresh wind, free wind, blowing from the sea, Pour forth thy vials like streams from airy mountains, Draughts of life to me.— filed under Wind
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