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Quotes by David Gray
74 quotations from The Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations (1896), with the subject each one is filed under.
Autumn. *** Die down, O dismal day! And come, blue deeps! magnificently strewn With colored clouds-large, light, and fugitive- By upper winds through pompous motions blown.— filed under Clouds
other Poems. P. 167. October's gold is dim-the forests rot, The weary rain falls ceaseless, while the day Is wrapped in damp.— filed under Months-October
Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign, And unknown regions dare descry.— filed under Adventure
Thou tamer of the human breast, Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour The bad affright, afflict the best!— filed under Adversity
Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes; Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.— filed under Affection
AGE (OLD). Slow-consuming age.— filed under Affliction
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heaven did a recompense as largely send; He gave to misery (all he had) a tear, He gain'd from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.— filed under Benevolence
Scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.— filed under Benevolence
Cuckoo. The Attic warbler pours her throat Responsive to the cuckoo's note.— filed under Birds-Cuckoo
Tho' he inherit Nor the pride, nor ample pinion, That the Theban eagle bear, Sailing with supreme dominion Thro' the azure deep of air,— filed under Birds-Dove
There scatter'd oft, the earliest of the year, By hands unseen are showers of violets found; The Redbreast loves to build and warble there, And light footsteps lightly print the ground.— filed under Birds-Robin
The hues of bliss more brightly glow, Chastis'd by sabler tints of woe.— filed under Bliss
Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune, He had not the method of making a fortune.— filed under Bribery
Patriarch. Love and Other Poems. Spring. From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take.— filed under Brooks
Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.— filed under Character
No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode (There they alike in trembling hope repose), The bosom of his Father and his God.— filed under Charity
Alas! regardless of their doom, The little victims play; No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond to-day.— filed under Childhood
of the Birth-Night Ball. To brisk notes in cadence beating Glance their many-twinkling feet.— filed under Dancing
Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?— filed under Death
The living throne, the sapphire blaze, Where angels tremble while they gaze, He saw; but blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night.— filed under Death
Not all that tempts your wandering eyes And heedless hearts is lawful prize, Nor all that glisters gold.— filed under Demosthenes
And many a holy text around she strews That teach the rustic moralist to die.— filed under And Cared Not How It Blew
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. S.— filed under Evening
Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast, The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.— filed under Fame
Yet, ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise.— filed under Fate
Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune; He had not the method of making a fortune.— filed under Fortune
A favourite has no friend.— filed under Friends
Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart. S.— filed under Friends
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.— filed under Glory
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!— filed under Glory
What female heart can gold despise? What cat's averse to fish? S.— filed under Gold
Empire. The still small voice of gratitude.— filed under Gratitude
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. S.— filed under Gratitude
Shelley's trans. Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air.— filed under Hair
They had finished her own crown in glory, and she couldn't stay away from the coronation. S.— filed under Heaven
And read their history in a nation's eyes.— filed under History
Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed, Less pleasing when possest; The tear forgot as soon as shed, The sunshine of the breast.— filed under Hope
Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.— filed under Ignorance
They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.— filed under Joy
And leave us leisure to be good. и.— filed under Leisure
Along the cool sequestered vale of life, They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.— filed under Life
Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart.— filed under Love
O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of love. S.— filed under Love
Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown; Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, And Melancholy marked him for his own. C.— filed under Melancholy
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind.— filed under Mercy
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn.— filed under Morning
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.— filed under Music
E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.— filed under Nature
He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and time: The living throne, the sapphire blaze, Where angels tremble while they gaze, He saw; but, blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night.— filed under Night
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, desert air. And waste its sweetness on the desert air.— filed under Obscurity
Farming. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield: Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke: How jocund did they drive their team a-field! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! S.— filed under Occupations-Acting
Rich windows that exclude the light, And passages that lead to nothing.— filed under Occupations-Alchemy
Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear.— filed under December
Letter XII. The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are open paradise.— filed under Paradise
Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.— filed under Poverty
Jan. 1, 1831. Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind.— filed under Resolution
Christian Science. While bright-eyed Science watches round.— filed under Science
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.— filed under Sighs
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife.— filed under Solitude
Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies.— filed under Sorrow
Eton College. To each his suff'rings: all are men, Condemn'd alike to groan; The tender for another's pain, Th' unfeeling for his own. C.— filed under Sorrow
To each his suff'rings; all are men, Condemn'd alike to groan; The tender for another's pain, Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise.— filed under Suicide
S. And waste its sweetness on the desert air.— filed under Sweetness
And weep the more, because I weep in vain.— filed under Tears
West. Ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.— filed under Tears
The tear forgot as soon as shed, The sunshine of the breast.— filed under Tears
Thoughts that breathe and words that burn.— filed under Thought
Sonnet VI. Rich with the spoils of time.— filed under Time
Hard Unkindness' alter'd eye, That mocks the tear it forced to flow.— filed under Unkindness
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight! Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul.— filed under Visions
And to hie him home, at evening's close, To sweet repast, and calm repose. * * * * * * From toil he wins his spirits light, From busy day the peaceful night; Rich, from the very want of wealth, In heaven's best treasures, peace and health.— filed under Wealth
The insect-youth are on the wing, Eager to taste the honied spring, And float amid the liquid noon!— filed under Youth
Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly rising o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes, Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm.— filed under Wrongs
Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows.— filed under Zephyrs