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Quotes by Robert Buchanan
The earth is rocking, the skies are riven- Jove in a passion, in god-like fashion, Is breaking the crystal urns of heaven.— filed under Electricity
Here lie the remains of James Pady, Brickmaker, in hope that his clay will be remoulded in a workmanlike manner, far superior to his former perishable materials. C. Epitaphs from Addiscombe Church-yard, Devonshire. Here lies Anne Mann; she lived an Old maid and died an old Mann. Bath Abbey. And the voice of men shall call, "He is fallen like us all, Though the weapon of the Lord was in his hand:" And thine epitaph shall be- "He was wretched ev'n as we;" And thy tomb may be unhonoured in the land.— filed under Epitaph
Bright Eyes, Light Eyes! Daughter of a Fay! I had not been a married wife a twelvemonth and a day, I had not nursed my little one a month upon my knee, When down among the blue bell banks rose elfins three times three: They griped me by the raven hair, I could not cry for fear, They put a hempen rope around my waist and dragged me here; They made me sit and give thee suck as mortal mothers can, Bright Eyes, Light Eyes! strange and weak and wan!— filed under Fairies
Pansies? You praise the ones that grow today Here in the garden; had you seen the place When Sutherland was living! Here they grew, From blue to deeper blue, in midst of each A golden dazzle like a glimmering star, Each broader, bigger than a silver crown; While here the weaver sat, his labor done, Watching his azure pets and rearing them, Until they seem'd to know his step and touch, And stir beneath his smile like living things: The very sunshine loved them, and would lie Here happy, coming early, lingering late, Because they were so fair.— filed under Flowers-Pansy
One fine day, Says Mister Mucklewraith to me, says he, "So! you've a poet in your house," and smiled; "A poet? God forbid," I cried; and then It all came out: how Andrew slyly sent Verse to the paper; how they printed it In Poets' Corner.— filed under Poets