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Quotes by Isaac Watts
Princess Periwinkle in "A Trip to Cambridge." See "Campbell's Specimens of the British Poets." Vol. VI. P. 185. Birds in their little nests agree: And 'tis a shameful sight, When children of one family Fall out, and chide, and fight.— filed under Contention
The tall, the wise, the reverend head, Must lie as low as ours.— filed under Death
How fair is the Rose! what a beautiful flower. The glory of April and May! But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour, And they wither and die in a day. Yet the Rose has one powerful virtue to boast, Above all the flowers of the field; When its leaves are all dead, and fine colours are lost, Still how sweet a perfume it will yield!— filed under Flowers-Rose
I have been there, and still would go; 'Tis like a little heaven below.— filed under Hell
But, children, you should never let Such angry passions rise; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes. C.— filed under Passion
And while the lamp holds out to burn, The vilest sinner may return.— filed under Repose
Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound.— filed under Sound
Fairest of all the lights above, Thou sun, whose beams adorn the spheres, And with unwearied swiftness move, To form the circles of our years.— filed under Sunrise
In books, or work, or healthful play.— filed under Work
Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber, Holy angels guard thy bed! Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head.— filed under Ballads
So when a raging fever burns, We shift from side to side by turns; And 'tis a poor relief we gain, To change the place but keep the pain.— filed under Dissension
Let dogs delight to bark and bite, For God hath made them so; Let bears and lions growl and fight, For 'tis their nature to.— filed under Dissension
The tall, the wise, the reverend head, Must be as low as ours.— filed under Equality
And he that does one fault at first, And lies to hide it, makes it two.— filed under Falsehood
Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound.— filed under Gratitude
The little bee returns with evening's gloom, To join her comrades in the braided hive, Where, housed beside their mighty honeycomb, They dream their polity shall long survive. CHARLES (TENNYSON) TURNER-A Summer Night in the Bee Hive. How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower.— filed under Insects-Bee
Our life contains a thousand springs, And dies if one be gone. Strange! that a harp of thousand strings Should keep in tune so long. S.— filed under Life
The mind's the standard of the man.— filed under Man
Were I so tall to reach the pole, Or grasp the ocean with my span, I must be measur'd by my soul : The mind's the standard of the man.— filed under Mind
For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do. CC.— filed under Proverbs
SEASONS (THE)-SPRING. 539 But Thy good word informs my soul How I may climb to heaven.— filed under Scripture
How glad the heathens would have been, That worship idols, wood and stone, If they the book of God had seen.— filed under Scripture
Wm. Morris' trans. Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber! Holy angels guard thy bed! S.— filed under Sleep
'Tis the voice of the sluggard; I hear him complain; "You've waked me too soon, I must slumber again. * * * * * * A little more sleep and a little more slumber."— filed under Sleep
How fine has the day been! how bright was the sun, How lovely and joyful the course that he run! Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun, And there followed some droppings of rain : But now the fair traveller's come to the west, His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best; He paints the skies gay as he sinks to his rest, And foretells a bright rising again.— filed under Sunset