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Quotes by E. C. Stedman
They seemed to whisper: "How handsome she is! What wavy tresses! what sweet perfume! Under her mantle she hides her wings; Her flower of a bonnet is just in bloom."— filed under Beauty
In the thickets and the meadows Piped the bluebird, the Owaissa. On the summit of the lodges Sang the robin, the Opechee. LONGFELLOw-Hiawatha. Pt. XXI. Whither away, Bluebird, Whither away? The blast is chill, yet in the upper sky Thou still canst find the color of thy wing, The hue of May. Warbler, why speed thy southern flight? ah, why, Thou too, whose song first told us of the Spring? Whither away?— filed under Birds-Blackbird
Bird of the amber beak, Bird of the golden wing! Thy dower is thy carolling; Thou hast not far to seek Thy bread, nor needest wine To make thy utterance divine; Thou art canopied and clothed And unto Song betrothed.— filed under Birds-Canary
Whither away, Robin, Whither away? Is it through envy of the maple leaf, Whose blushes mock the crimson of thy breast, Thou wilt not stay? The summer days now long, yet all too brief The happy season thou hast been our guest: Whither away? C.— filed under Birds-Robin
Worth, courage, honor, these indeed Your sustenance and birthright are.— filed under Character
The trickling rain doth fall Upon us one and all; The south-wind kisses The saucy milkmaid's cheek, The nun's, demure and meek, Nor any misses.— filed under Equality
Alas, by what rude fate Our lives, like ships at sea, an instant meet, Then part forever on their courses fleet.— filed under Faults
When buttercups are blossoming, The poets sang, 'tis best to wed: So all for love we paired in Spring- Blanche and I-ere youth had sped. S.— filed under Flowers-Azalea
I drink deep draughts of its nectar.— filed under Flowers-Honeysuckle
O sweetest of all the flowrets That bloom where angels tread! But never such marvelous odor, From heliotrope was shed.— filed under Flowers-Honeysuckle
My lips till then had only known The kiss of mother and of sister, But somehow, full upon her own Sweet, rosy, darling mouth,-I kissed her.— filed under Kisses
Thou art mine, thou hast given thy word, Close, close in my arms thou art clinging; Alone for my ear thou art singing A song which no stranger hath heard: But afar from me yet, like a bird, Thy soul in some region unstirr'd On its mystical circuit is winging.— filed under Matrimony
No clouds are in the morning sky, The vapors hug the stream, Who says that life and love can die In all this northern gleam? At every turn the maples burn, The quail is whistling free, The partridge whirs, and the frosted burs Are dropping for you and me. Ho! hillyho! heigh O! Hillyho! In the clear October morning.— filed under Months-October
But, Virginians, don't do it, for I tell you that the flagon, Filled with blood of Old Brown's offspring, was first poured by Southern hands; And each drop from Old Brown's life-veins, like the red gore of the Dragon, May spring up a vengeful Fury, hissing through your slave-worn lands: And Old Brown, Osawatomie Brown, May trouble you worse than ever, when you've nailed his coffin down.— filed under War
Harper's Ferry. Written during Brown's Trial. Nov., 1859. The crystal-pointed tents from hill to hill.— filed under War
War! war! war! Heaven aid the right! God move the hero's arm in the fearful fight! God send the women sleep in the long, long night, When the breasts on whose strength they leaned shall heave no more.— filed under Water
No, he was no such charlatan- Count de Hoboken Flash-in-the-Pan- Full of gasconade and bravado, But a regular, rich Don Rataplane, Santa Claus de la Muscavado, Senor Grandissimo Bastinado! His was the rental of half Havana And all Matanzas; and Santa Ana, Rich as he was, could hardly hold A candle to light the mines of gold Our Cuban owned.— filed under Wealth