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.
443 quotations from The Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations (1896), with the subject each one is filed under.
Ah! surely nothing dies but something mourns!— filed under Death
Beauty. Wives in their husband's absences grow subtler, And daughters sometimes run off with the butler.— filed under Absence
And these vicissitudes come best in youth; For when they happen at a riper age, People are apt to blame the Fates, forsooth, And wonder Providence is not more sage. Adversity is the first path to truth: He who hath proved war, storm or woman's rage, Whether his winters be eighteen or eighty, Has won the experience which is deem'd so weighty.— filed under Adversity
She had a good opinion of advice, Like all who give and eke receive it gratis, For which small thanks are still the market price, Even where the article at highest rate is.— filed under Advice
Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.— filed under Affliction
He has grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life. So that no wonder waits him. C.— filed under Affliction
Just as old age is creeping on apace, And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day, They kindly leave us, though not quite alone, But in good company-the gout or stone.— filed under Affliction
My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone!— filed under Affliction
Thirty-sixth Year. Oh, for one hour of blind old Dandolo, Th' octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe!— filed under Affliction
What is the worst of woes that wait on age? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth as I am now.— filed under Affliction
*** Years steal Fire from the mind, as vigor from the limb; And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.— filed under Affliction
Jackal. The jackal's troop, in gather'd cry, Bay'd from afar complainingly, With a mix'd and mournful sound, Like crying babe, and beaten hound.— filed under Animals-Horse
Around his form his loose long robe was thrown, And wrapt a breast bestowed on heaven alone.— filed under Apparel
And gazed around them to the left and right With the prophetic eye of appetite.— filed under Appetite
'Twas blow for blow, disputing inch by inch, For one would not retreat, nor t'other flinch.— filed under Argument
When Bishop Berkeley said, "there was no matter," And proved it-'twas no matter what he said.— filed under Argument
So for a good old-gentlemanly vice, I think I must take up with avarice.— filed under Avarice
He smiles, and sleeps!-sleep on And smile, thou little, young inheritor Of a world scarce less young: sleep on and smile! Thine are the hours and days when both are cheering And innocent! S.— filed under Awkwardness
How lovely he appears! his little cheeks In their pure incarnation, vying with The rose leaves strewn beneath them. And his lips, too, How beautifully parted! No; you shall not Kiss him; at least not now; he will wake soon- His hour of midday rest is nearly over.— filed under Awkwardness
Look! how he laughs and stretches out his arms, And opens wide his blue eyes upon thine, To hail his father; while his little form Flutters as winged with joy. Talk not of pain! The childless cherubs well might envy thee The pleasures of a parent.— filed under Awkwardness
A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded, A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded.— filed under Beauty
Her glossy hair was cluster'd o'er a brow Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth; Her eyebrow's shape was like the aërial bow, Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth, Mounting, at times, to a transparent glow, As if her veins ran lightning. S.— filed under Beauty
She walks in beauty like the night Of cloudless chimes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.— filed under Beauty
The light of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the Music breathing from her face, The heart whose softness harmonized the whole, And, oh! the eye was in itself a Soul!— filed under Beauty
Thou who hast The fatal gift of beauty— filed under Beauty
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight Faints into dimness with its own delight, His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess, The might-the majesty of Loveliness? C.— filed under Beauty
Sonnets. Ostend. On Hearing the Bells at Sea. That all-softening, overpowering knell, The tocsin of the soul-the dinner bell.— filed under Bells
Surely Art. Eagle. So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quivered in his heart.— filed under Birds-Dove
Fowl, Wild. The wildfowl nestled in the brake And sedges, brooding in their liquid bed.— filed under Birds-Falcon
Nightingale. It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard; It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.— filed under Birds-Nightingale
Prophet of Khorassan. Partridge. Ah, nut-brown partridges! Ah, brilliant pheasants! And ah, ye poachers!-'Tis no sport for peasants.— filed under Birds-Owl
Peacock. For everything seemed resting on his nod, As they could read in all eyes. Now to them, Who were accustomed, as a sort of god, To see the sultan, rich in many a gem, Like an imperial peacock stalk abroad (That royal bird, whose tail's a diadem,) With all the pomp of power, it was a doubt How power could condescend to do without.— filed under Birds-Pelican
Blushed like the waves of hell.— filed under Blushes
Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.— filed under Blushes
So sweet the blush of bashfulness, E'en pity scarce can wish it less!— filed under Blushes
'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast, But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past.— filed under Blushes
glides the Bonnie Boat. On the ear Drops the light drip of the suspended oar.— filed under Boating
'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print; A book's a book, although there's nothing in't,— filed under Books
Society is now one polished horde, Formed of two mighty tribes, the Bores and Bored. S.— filed under Bores
Brave men were living before Agamemnon.— filed under Bravery
The truly brave, When they behold the brave oppressed with odds, Are touched with a desire to shield and save :- A mixture of wild beasts and demi-gods Are they-now furious as the sweeping wave, Now moved with pity; even as sometimes nods The rugged tree unto the summer wind, Compassion breathes along the savage mind.— filed under Bravery
'Tis pleasant purchasing our fellow-creatures; And all are to be sold, if you consider Their passions, and are dextrous; some by features Are bought up, others by a warlike leader; Some by a place-as tend their years or natures; The most by ready cash-but all have prices, From crowns to kicks, according to their vices.— filed under Bribery
Weep not that the world changes-did it keep A stable, changeless state, it were cause indeed to weep. BRYANT Mutation. A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.— filed under Change
And one by one in turn, some grand mistake Casts off its bright skin yearly like the snake.— filed under Change
Full from the fount of Joy's delicious springs Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.— filed under Change
How chang'd since last her speaking eye Glanc'd gladness round the glitt'ring room, Where high-born men were proud to wait- Where Beauty watched to imitate.— filed under Change
I am not now That which I have been.— filed under Change
Shrine of the mighty! can it be, That this is all remains of thee?— filed under Change
Temple and tower went down, nor left a site:- Chaos of ruins!— filed under Chaos
The world was void, The populous and the powerful was a lump, Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, life less- A lump of death-a chaos of hard clay.— filed under Chaos
Democritus to the Reader. Heroic, stoic Cato, the sententious, Who lent his lady to his friend Hortensius.— filed under Character
So well she acted all and every part By turns-with that vivacious versatility, Which many people take for want of heart. They err-'tis merely what is call'd mobility, A thing of temperament and not of art, Though seeming so, from its supposed facility; And false-though true; for surely they're sincerest Who are strongly acted on by what is nearest. и. BYRON-Don Juan. Canto XVI. St. 97. With more capacity for love than earth Bestows on most of mortal mould and birth, His early dreams of good out-stripp'd the truth, And troubled manhood follow'd baffled youth.— filed under Character
He thought at heart like courtly Chesterfield, Who, after a long chase o'er hills, dales, bushes, And what not, though he rode beyond all price, Ask'd next day, "if men ever hunted twice?"— filed under Chase, The
Subsect. 3. A little curly-headed, good-for-nothing, And mischief-making monkey from his birth.— filed under Childhood
Besides, they always smell of bread and butter.— filed under Childhood
Better to sink beneath the shock Than moulder piecemeal on the rock!— filed under Choice
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded That all the Apostles would have done as they did.— filed under Christian
See also SIR ROBERT PEEL'S Address. Quarterly Review. Vol. LIII. p. 270. 1835. I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse-borne away with every breath!— filed under Circumstance
Men are the sport of circumstances, when The circumstances seem the sport of men.— filed under Circumstance
Seven cities vied for Homer's birth with emulation pious: Salamis, Samos, Calophon, Rhodes, Argos, Athens, Chios, Greek Anthology. I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me; and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities torture.— filed under Circumstance
1889. P. 492. Athens. Ancient of days! august Athena! where, Where are thy men of might? thy grand in soul? Gone-glimmering through the dream of things that were; First in the race that led to glory's goal, They won, and pass'd away-Is this the whole?— filed under Circumstance
Dresden Poetry. Florence. Ungrateful Florence! Dante sleeps afar, Like Scipio, buried by the upbraiding shore.— filed under Cities-Dresden
London. A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown On a fool's head-and there is London Town, C.— filed under Cities-Dresden
City Doctor. Rome. O Rome! my country! city of the soul!— filed under Cities-Venice
When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall; And when Rome falls-the World.— filed under Cities-Venice
Venice. In Venice, Tasso's echoes are no more, And silent rows the songless gondolier; Her palaces are crumbling to the shore, And music meets not always now the ear,— filed under Cities-Venice
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs; A palace and a prison on each hand; I saw from out the wave her structure rise As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand: A thousand years their cloudy wings expand Around me, and a dying Glory smiles O'er the far times, when many a subject land Look'd to the wingèd Lion's marble piles, Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles.— filed under Cities-Venice
Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy.— filed under Cities-Venice
He who surpasses or subdues mankind, Must look down on the hate of those below.— filed under Conquest
A quiet conscience makes one so serene! Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded That all the Apostles would have done as they did.— filed under Conscience
But at sixteen the conscience rarely gnaws So much, as when we call our old debts in At sixty years, and draw the accounts of evil, And find a deuced balance with the devil.— filed under Conscience
But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell, And there hath been thy bane.— filed under Conscience
Nor ear can hear nor tongue can tell The tortures of that inward hell!— filed under Conscience
There is no future pang Can deal that justice on the self condemn'd He deals on his own soul.— filed under Conscience
Yet still there whispers the small voice within, Heard through Gain's silence, and o'er Glory's din; Whatever creed be taught or land be trod, Man's conscience is the oracle of God.— filed under Conscience
The drying up a single tear has more Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore.— filed under Consolation
Go-let thy less than woman's hand Assume the distaff-not the brand.— filed under Contempt
So let him stand, through ages yet unborn, Fix'd statue on the pedestal of Scorn.— filed under Contempt
There was a laughing Devil in his sneer, That raised emotions both of rage and fear.— filed under Contempt
Like a lovely tree She grew to womanhood, and between whiles Rejected several suitors, just to learn How to accept a better in his turn.— filed under Coquetry
Such is your cold coquette, who can't say "No," And won't say "Yes," and keeps you on and off-ing On a lee-shore, till it begins to blow, Then sees your heart wreck'd, with an inward scoffing.— filed under Coquetry
When Lilacs Last in the Door-Yard Bloom'd. St. 12. Egypt. Egypt! from whose all dateless tombs arose Forgotten Pharaohs from their long repose, And shook within their pyramids to hear A new Cambyses thundering in their ear; While the dark shades of forty ages stood Like startled giants by Nile's famous flood.— filed under Countries-America
Greece. Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth ! Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great!— filed under Countries-England
Such is the aspect of this shore; 'Tis Greece, but living Greece no more! So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there.— filed under Countries-England
The mountains look on Marathon- And Marathon looks on the sea; And musing there an hour alone, I dreamed that Greece might still be free.— filed under Countries-Scotland
"De Gustibus." 2 Italia! O Italia! thou who hast The fatal gift of beauty, which became A funeral dower of present woes and past, On thy sweet brow is sorrow plough'd by shame, And annals graved in characters of flame.— filed under Countries-Scotland
I can't but say it is an awkward sight To see one's native land receding through The growing waters; it unman's one quite, Especially when life is rather new.— filed under Country, Love Of
Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!— filed under Country, Love Of
Yon Sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native land-Good Night!— filed under Country, Love Of
A mere court butterfly, That flutters in the pageant of a monarch.— filed under Courtiers
Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay, Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme, Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.— filed under Crime
A man must serve his time to every trade Save censure-critics all are ready made. Take hackney'd jokes from Miller, got by rote, With just enough of learning to misquote; A mind well skill'd to find or forge a fault; A turn for punning, call it Attic salt; To Jeffrey go, be silent and discreet, His pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet; Fear not to lie, 'twill seem a lucky hit; Shrink not from blasphemy, 'twill pass for wit; Care not for feeling-pass your proper jest, And stand a critic, hated yet caress'd.— filed under Criticism
As soon Seek roses in December-ice in June, Hope, constancy in wind, or corn in chaff; Believe a woman or an epitaph, Or any other thing that's false, before You trust in critics.— filed under Criticism
I loathe that low vice-curiosity.— filed under Curiosity
D. And then he danced; -all foreigners excel The serious Angles in the eloquence Of pantomime;-he danced, I say, right well, With emphasis, and also with good sense- A thing in footing indispensable: He danced without theatrical pretence, Not like a ballet-master in the van Of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentle man.— filed under Dancing
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell.— filed under Dancing
Endearing Waltz-to thy more melting tune Bow Irish jig, and ancient rigadoon. Scotch reels, avaunt! and country-dance forego Your future claims to each fantastic toe! Waltz-Waltz alone-both legs and arms demands, Liberal of feet, and lavish of her hands.— filed under Dancing
Hot from the hands promiscuously applied, Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side. C.— filed under Dancing
Imperial Waltz! imported from the Rhine (Famed for the growth of pedigrees and wine), Long be thine import from all duty free, And hock itself be less esteem'd than thee.— filed under Dancing
On with the dance! let joy be unconfin'd; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet.— filed under Dancing
I have not quailed to danger's brow When high and happy-need I now?— filed under Danger
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave, The Moon, their Mistress, had expired before; The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air, And the clouds perish'd; darkness had no need Of aid from them-she was the Universe.— filed under Darkness
Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is pass'd in sleep.— filed under Death
Down to the dust!-and, as thou rott'st away, Even worms shall perish on thy poisonous clay. น.— filed under Death
Heaven gives its favourites-early death.— filed under Death
He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled, The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress, (Before Decay's effacing fingers Have swept the lines where beauty lingers) And mark'd the mild angelic air, The rapture of repose that's there.— filed under Death
Oh, God! it is a fearful thing To see the human soul take wing In any shape, in any mood!— filed under Death
Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.— filed under Death
P. 331. A gilded halo hovering round decay.— filed under Decay
C. You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet, Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? Of two such lessons, why forget The nobler and the manlier one? You have the letters Cadmus gave- Think ye he meant them for a slave?— filed under Decay
None are so desolate but something dear, Dearer than self, possesses or possess'd A thought, and claims the homage of a tear.— filed under Desolation
II. Hark! to the hurried question of Despair: "Where is my child?"-an Echo answers- "Where?"— filed under Despair
Hope, withering, fled-and Mercy sighed farewell.— filed under Despair
Conclusion. Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred.— filed under Destiny
Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail, For I am a weed, Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.— filed under Destiny
There comes For ever something between us and what We deem our happiness.— filed under Destiny
"Whom the gods love die young," was said of yore.— filed under Destiny
Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore, All ashes to the taste.— filed under Disappointment
And Doubt and Discord step 'twixt thine and thee.— filed under Dissension
That each pull'd different ways with many an oath, "Arcades ambo," id est-blackguards both.— filed under Dissension
Sapping a solemn creed with a solemn sneer.— filed under Doctrine
A change came o'er the spirit of my dream.— filed under Dreams
And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They have a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.— filed under Dreams
I had a dream, which was not all a dream.— filed under Dreams
Duchess. XVI. Fill full! Why this is as it should be: here Is my true realm, amidst bright eyes and faces Happy as fair! Here sorrow cannot reach.— filed under Drinking
It has a strange, quick jar upon the ear, That cocking of a pistol, when you know A moment more will bring the sight to bear Upon your person, twelve yards off or so.— filed under Duelling
All human history attests That happiness for man, -the hungry sinner!- Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner.— filed under Eating
Man is a carnivorous production, And must have meals, at least one meal a day; He cannot live, like woodcocks, upon suction, But, like the shark and tiger, must have prey; Although his anatomical construction Bears vegetables, in a grumbling way, Your laboring people think beyond all question, Beef, veal, and mutton better for digestion.— filed under Eating
That famish'd people must be slowly nurst, And fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst.— filed under Eating
of the Cable. Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound.— filed under Electricity
However, 'tis expedient to be wary: Indifference certes don't produce distress; And rash enthusiasm in good society Were nothing but a moral inebriety.— filed under Enthusiasm
Kind reader! take your choice to cry or laugh; Here HAROLD lies-but where's his Epitaph? If such you seek, try Westminster, and view Ten thousand, just as fit for him as you.— filed under Epitaph
Shrine of the mighty! can it be, That this is all remains of thee?— filed under Epitaph
Eternity forbids thee to forget. C.— filed under Eternity
It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard; It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whispered word; And gentle winds, and waters near, Make music to the lonely ear. Each flower the dews have lightly wet, And in the sky the stars are met, And on the wave is deeper blue, And on the leaf a browner hue, And in the heaven that clear obscure, So softly dark, and darkly pure. Which follows the decline of day, As twilight melts beneath the moon away.— filed under Evening
Compensation. None are all evil.— filed under Aristophanes
"Yet doth he live!" exclaims th' impatient heir, And sighs for sables which he must not wear. C.— filed under Expectation
Her eye (I'm very fond of handsome eyes) Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire Until she spoke, then through its soft disguise Flash'd an expression more of pride than ire, And love than either; and there would arise, A something in them which was not desire, But would have been, perhaps, but for the soul, Which struggled through and chasten'd down the whole.— filed under Eyes
With eyes that look'd into the very soul- * * * * * * Bright-and as black and burning as a coal.— filed under Eyes
And her face so fair Stirr'd with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air.— filed under Face
And to his eye There was but one beloved face on earth, And that was shining on him.— filed under Face
The mind, the Music breathing from her face.— filed under Face
Yet even her tyranny had such a grace, The women pardoned all, except her face.— filed under Face
And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but The truth in masquerade. C.— filed under Falsehood
Folly loves the martyrdom of fame.— filed under Fame
I awoke one morning and found myself famous.— filed under Fame
O Fame!-if I e'er took delight in thy praises, 'Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover She thought that I was not unworthy to love her.— filed under Fame
Between Florence and Pisa. What is the end of Fame? 'tis but to fill A certain portion of uncertain paper: Some liken it to climbing up a hill, Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapour: For this men write, speak, preach, and heroes kill, And bards burn what they call their "midnight taper," To have, when the original is dust, A name, a wretched picture, and worse bust.— filed under Fame
King. Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been- A sound which makes us linger; -yet-farewell!— filed under Farewell
"Farewell!" For in that word--that fatal word-howe'er We promise-hope-believe there breathes despair.— filed under Farewell
So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart.— filed under Fate
Then farewell, Horace; whom I hated so, Not for thy faults, but mine.— filed under Faults
Subsect. 2. The music, and the banquet, and the wine- The garlands, the rose odors, and the flowers, The sparkling eyes, and flashing ornaments- The white arms and the raven hair-the braids, And bracelets; swan-like bosoms, and the necklace, An India in itself, yet dazzling not.— filed under Festivities
There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men.— filed under Festivities
Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The rival of the earth, the masque of Italy.— filed under Festivities
And wrinkles, the d-d democrats, won't flatter.— filed under Flattery
Folly loves the martyrdom of Fame.— filed under Folly
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.— filed under Folly
For Freedom's battle once begun, Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft is ever won.— filed under Freedom
Hereditary bondsmen! Know ye not Who would be free themselves must strike the blow?— filed under Freedom
The mountains look on Marathon, And Marathon looks on the sea; And musing there an hour alone I dream'd that Greece might still be free. For standing on the Persians' grave I could not deem myself a slave.— filed under Freedom
Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying, Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind.— filed under Freedom
Ah! were I sever'd from thy side, Where were thy friend and who my guide? Years have not seen, Time shall not see The hour that tears my soul from thee.— filed under Friends
. St. Heroic, stoic Cato, the sententious, VI. St. Who lent his lady to his friend Hortensius.— filed under Friends
Friendship is Love without his wings!— filed under Friendship
S. Ailes. St. 1. In friendship I early was taught to believe; * * * * * * I have found that a friend may profess, yet deceive.— filed under Friendship
Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore, All ashes to the taste.— filed under Fruits
Whose game was empires, and whose stakes were thrones; Whose table earth, whose dice were human bones.— filed under Gambling
Gentleman. Tho' modest, on his unembarrass'd brow Nature had written-"Gentleman."— filed under Gentlemen
Sir Walter Scott. Who track the steps of Glory to the grave.— filed under Glory
"There is no god but God! -to prayer-lo! God is great!"— filed under God
A thirst for gold, The beggar's vice, which can but overwhelm The meanest hearts.— filed under Gold
A thousand years scarce serve to form a state; An hour may lay it in the dust.— filed under Government
Take time enough-all other graces Will soon fill up their proper places.— filed under Grace
Of all The fools who flock'd to swell or see the show, Who car'd about the corpse? The funeral Made the attraction, and the black the woe; There throbb'd not there a thought which pierc'd the pall.— filed under Gratitude
Perhaps the early grave Which men weep over may be meant to save.— filed under Gratitude
Even to the delicacy of their hand There was resemblance such as true blood wears.— filed under Hand
For through the South the custom still commands The gentleman to kiss the lady's hands.— filed under Hand
Beccaria's introduction to Essay on Crimes and Punishments. *** all who joy would win Must share it, -Happiness was born a twin.— filed under Happiness
S. Oh, Mirth and Innocence! Oh, Milk and Water! Ye happy mixtures of more happy days!— filed under Happiness
Now hatred is by far the longest pleasure; Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure.— filed under Hatred
These two hated with a hate Found only on the stage.— filed under Hatred
When health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing, And flies with every changing gale of spring.— filed under Health
He ne'er presumed to make an error clearer ;- In short, there never was a better hearer.— filed under Hearing
His heart was one of those which most enamour us, Wax to receive, and marble to retain.— filed under Heart
儀 Maid of Athens, ere we part, Give, oh, give me back my heart!— filed under Heart
After Sunset. In hope to merit Heaven by making earth a Hell.— filed under Heaven
Democritus to the Reader. The careful pilot of my proper woe.— filed under Help
I want a hero: an uncommon want, When every year and month sends forth a new one.— filed under Heroes
And history with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page.— filed under History
What want these outlaws conquerors should have But History's purchased page to call them great? S.— filed under History
July 3, 1776. There were his young barbarians all at play There was their Dacian mother-he, their sire, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday.— filed under Holidays
Might make a saintship of an anchorite.— filed under Holiness
Where'er we tread 'tis haunted, holy ground.— filed under Holiness
But still there clung One hope, like a keen sword on starting threads uphung.— filed under Hope
And be the Spartan's epitaph on me- "Sparta hath many a worthier son than he."— filed under Humility
Monopolists. But man is a carnivorous production, And must have meals, at least one meal a day; He cannot live, like woodcocks, upon suction, But, like the shark and tiger, must have prey.— filed under Hunger
Famished people must be slowly nursed, And fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst.— filed under Hunger
And truant husband should return, and say, "My dear, I was the first who came away."— filed under Husband
Be hypocritical, be cautious, be Not what you seem but always what you see.— filed under Hypocrisy
Oh, for a forty-parson power to chant Thy praise, Hypocrisy! Oh, for a hymn Loud as the virtues thou dost loudly vaunt, Not practise!— filed under Hypocrisy
I have not loved the world, nor the world me; I have not flatter'd its rank breath, nor bow'd To its idolatries a patient knee. S.— filed under Independence
I hate inconstancy-I loathe, detest, Abhor, condemn, abjure the mortal made Of such quicksilver clay that in his breast No permanent foundation can be laid.— filed under Inconstancy
Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; The best of life is but intoxication: Glory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk The hopes of all men and of every nation; Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk Of life's strange tree, so fruitful on occasion: But to return, -Get very drunk; and when You wake with headache, you shall see what then.— filed under Intemperance
Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it.— filed under Jealousy
An infant when it gazes on a light, A child the moment when it drains the breast, A devotee when soars the Host in sight, An Arab with a stranger for a guest, A sailor when the prize has struck in fight, A miser filling his most hoarded chest, Feel rapture; but not such true joy are reaping As they who watch o'er what they love while sleeping.— filed under Joy
There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.— filed under Joy
A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth, and love.— filed under Kisses
Come, lay thy head upon my breast, And I will kiss thee into rest.— filed under Kisses
When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past- For years fleet away with the wings of the dove- The dearest remembrance will still be the last, Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.— filed under Kisses
Knowledge is not happiness, and science But an exchange of ignorance for that Which is another kind of ignorance. น.— filed under Knowledge
Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime, Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime?— filed under Knowledge
Such hath it been shall be-beneath the sun The many still must labour for the one.— filed under Labor
And if I laugh at any mortal thing, 'Tis that I may not weep.— filed under Laughter
The languages, especially the dead, The sciences, and most of all the abstruse, The arts, at least all such as could be said To be the most remote from common use, In all these he was much and deeply read.— filed under Learning
All is concentred in a life intense, Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost, But hath a part of being.— filed under Life
Did man compute Existence by enjoyment, and count o'er Such hours 'gainst years of life, say, would he name threescore?— filed under Life
Our life is two-fold; sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence.— filed under Life
The dust we tread upon was once alive.— filed under Life
I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth.— filed under Linguists
But yet she listen'd-'tis enough- Who listens once will listen twice; Her heart, be sure, is not of ice, And one refusal no rebuff.— filed under Listening
Alas! the love of women! it is known To be a lovely and a fearful thing.— filed under Love
And to his eye There was but one beloved face on earth, And that was shining on him.— filed under Love
In her first passion woman loves her lover; In all the others, all she loves is love.— filed under Love
See also LA ROCHEFOUCAULD. Maxims, No. 497. Man's love is of man's life a thing apart, 'Tis woman's whole existence: man may range The court, camp, church, the vessel, and the mart, Sword, gown, gain, glory, offer in exchange Pride, fame, ambition, to fill up his heart, And few there are whom these cannot estrange; Men have all these resources, we but one, To love again, and be again undone.— filed under Love
Oh Love! young Love! bound in thy rosy band, Let sage or cynic prattle as he will, These hours, and only these, redeem Life's years of ill.— filed under Love
O! that the Desert were my dwelling-place, With one fair Spirit for my minister, That I might all forget the human race, And, hating no one, love but only her! S.— filed under Love
She knew she was by him beloved, she knew For quickly comes such knowledge, that his heart Was darken'd with her shadow.— filed under Love
The cold in clime are cold in blood, Their love can scarce deserve the name.— filed under Love
Who loves, raves-'tis youth's frenzy-but the cure Is bitterer still.— filed under Love
S. 123. Why did she love him? Curious fool!-be still- Is human love the growth of human will?— filed under Love
Yes, Love indeed is light from heaven; A spark of that immortal fire With angels shared, by Allah given To lift from earth our low desire. C.— filed under Love
Sofas 'twas half a sin to sit upon, So costly were they; carpets, every stitch Of workmanship so rare, they make you wish You could glide o'er them like a golden fish.— filed under Luxury
Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.— filed under Mammon
But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, Half dust, half deity, alike unfit To sink or soar.— filed under Man
Lord of himself; - that heritage of woe!— filed under Man
The precious porcelain of human clay.— filed under Man
Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.— filed under Man
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?— filed under Man
He was the mildest manner'd man That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat.— filed under Manners
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded That all the Apostles would have done as they did.— filed under Martyrdom
For talk six times with the same single lady, And you may get the wedding dresses ready.— filed under Matrimony
There was no great disparity of years, Though much in temper; but they never clash'd, They moved like stars united in their spheres, Or like the Rhône by Leman's waters wash'd, Where mingled and yet separate appears The river from the lake, all bluely dash'd Through the serene and placid glassy deep, Which fain would lull its river-child to sleep.— filed under Matrimony
It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard; It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.— filed under Midnight
Is. See also SIR EDWARD DYER- My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is (T. H. WARD'S English Poets). The mind, the Music breathing from her face.— filed under Mind
'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle, Should let itself be snuff'd out by an article.— filed under Mind
When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter," And proved it, -'Twas no matter what he said.— filed under Mind
The Niobe of nations! there she stands, Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe.— filed under Misery
How beauteous are rouleaus! how charming chests Containing ingots, bags of dollars, coins (Not of old victors, all whose heads and crests Weigh not the thin ore where their visage shines, But) of fine unclipt gold, where dully rests Some likeness, which the glittering cirque confines, Of modern, reigning, sterling, stupid stamp;- Yes! ready money is Aladdin's lamp.— filed under Money
The devil's in the moon for mischief; they Who call'd her chaste, methinks, began too soon Their nomenclature; there is not a day, The longest, not the twenty-first of June, Sees half the business in a wicked way, On which three single hours of moonshine smile- And then she looks so modest all the while!— filed under Monuments
The morn is up again, the dewy morn, With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, And living as if earth contained no tomb, - And glowing into day.— filed under Morning
Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains; They crown'd him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow.— filed under Mountains
He had kept The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o'er him wept.— filed under Mourning
Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell.— filed under Music
Soprano, basso, even the contra-alto Wished him five fathom under the Rialto.— filed under Music
There's music in the sighing of a reed; There's music in the gushing of a rill; There's music in all things, if men had ears: Their earth is but an echo of the spheres.— filed under Music
Cambridge. He left a Corsair's name to other times, Linked with one virtue, and a thousand crimes.— filed under Name
I have a passion for the name of "Mary," For once it was a magic sound to me, And still it half calls up the realms of fairy, Where I beheld what never was to be.— filed under Name
Oh, Amos Cottle!-Phœbus! what a name!— filed under Name
For the night Shows stars and women in a better light.— filed under Night
Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber!— filed under Night
The stars are forth, the moon above the tops Of the snow-shining mountains-Beautiful! I linger yet with Nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man; and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness, I learn'd the language of another world.— filed under Night
Jack was embarrassed-never hero more, And as he knew not what to say, he swore.— filed under November
It is not in the storm nor in the strife We feel benumb'd, and wish to be no more, But in the after-silence on the shore, When all is lost, except a little life.— filed under Obscurity
Ugly Trades. Acting-The Stage. Farce follow'd Comedy, and reach'd her prime, In ever-laughing Foote's fantastic time; Mad wag! who pardon'd none, nor spared the best, And turn'd some very serious things to jest. Nor church nor state escaped his public sneers, Arms nor the gown, priests, lawyers, volunteers; "Alas, poor Yorick!" now forever mute! Whoever loves a laugh must sigh for Foote. We smile, perforce, when histrionic scenes Ape the swoln dialogue of kings and queens, When "Chrononhotonthologos must die," And Arthur struts in mimic majesty.— filed under Obscurity
But every fool describes, in these bright days, His wondrous journey to some foreign court, And spawns his quarto, and demands your praise,- Death to his publisher, to him 'tis sport.— filed under Occupations-Alchemy
But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think.— filed under Occupations-Alchemy
Dear authors! suit your topics to your strength, And ponder well your subject, and its length; Nor lift your load, before you're quite aware What weight your shoulders will, or will not, bear.— filed under Occupations-Alchemy
And nearer as they came, a genial savour Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus, Things which in hungry mortals' eyes find favour.— filed under Occupations-Cabinet-Making
Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared.— filed under Occupations-Cabinet-Making
Peregrinations Through Scotland. A would-be satirist, a hired buffoon, A monthly scribbler of some low lampoon, Condemn'd to drudge, the meanest of the mean, And furbish falsehoods for a magazine.— filed under Occupations-Jeweler
The law of heaven and earth is life for life.— filed under Occupations-Law
This is the way that physicians mend or end us, Secundum artem: but although we sneer In health-when ill, we call them to attend us, Without the least propensity to jeer.— filed under Occupations-Law
Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylæ!— filed under Occupations-Military
His breast with wounds unnumber'd riven, His back to earth, his face to heaven.— filed under Occupations-Military
O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free, Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire, and behold our home!— filed under Occupations-Navigation
From the mingled strength of shade and light A new creation rises to my sight Such heav'nly figures from his pencil flow, So warm with light his blended colors glow. * * * * * * The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring.— filed under Occupations-Navigation
Perfumery. In virtue, nothing earthly could surpass her, Save thine "incomparable oil," Macassar!— filed under Occupations-Painting
Ye tuneful cobblers! still your notes prolong, Compose at once a slipper and a song; So shall the fair your handiwork peruse, Your sonnets sure shall please-perhaps your shoes.— filed under Occupations-Shoemaking
May Moorland weavers boast Pindaric skill, And tailors' lays be longer than their bill! While punctual beaux reward the grateful notes, And pay for poems-when they pay for coats.— filed under Occupations-Tailoring
Teaching. O ye! who teach the ingenious youth of nations, Holland, France, England, Germany or Spain, I pray ye flog them upon all occasions, It mends their morals, never mind the pain.— filed under Occupations-Tailoring
'Tis pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue By female lips and eyes-that is. I mean, When both the teacher and the taught are young, As was the case, at least, where I have been; They smile so when one's right; and when one's wrong They smile still more.— filed under Occupations-Tailoring
Sublime tobacco! which from east to west, Cheers the tar's labour or the Turkman's rest; Which on the Moslem's ottoman divides His hours, and rivals opium and his brides; Magnificent in Stamboul, but less grand, Though not less loved, in Wapping or the Strand: Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe, When tipp'd with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe; Like other charmers, wooing the caress More dazzlingly when daring in full dress; Yet thy true lovers more admire by far Thy naked beauties-Give me a cigar!— filed under Occupations-Teaching
And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward; from a boy I wanton'd with thy breakers.— filed under Ocean
Once more upon the waters! yet once more! And the waves bound beneath me as a steed That knows his rider.— filed under Ocean
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean-roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin-his control Stops with the shore.— filed under Ocean
The image of Eternity-the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.— filed under Ocean
There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in, Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.— filed under Ocean
For most men (till by losing rendered sager) Will back their own opinions by a wager.— filed under Opinion
Fare thee well! and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well.— filed under Parting
Let's not unman each other-part at once; All farewells should be sudden, when forever, Else they make an eternity of moments, And clog the last sad sands of life with tears.— filed under Parting
Such partings break the heart they fondly hope to heal.— filed under Parting
We two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years.— filed under Parting
Gone-glimmering through the dream of things that were.— filed under Passion
The best of prophets of the future is the past.— filed under Passion
While Washington's a watchword, such as ne'er Shall sink while there's an echo left to air.— filed under Patriotism
Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease, He makes a solitude and calls it-peace!— filed under Peace
Oh! nature's noblest gift-my gray-goose quill! Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will, Torn from thy parent-bird to form a pen, That mighty instrument of little men!— filed under Perception
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society where none intrudes By the deep Sea, and music in its roar.— filed under Aaron Burr
Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme, Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.— filed under Poetry
The fatal facility of the octosyllabic verse.— filed under Poetry
Ovid's a rake, as half his verses show him, Anacreon's morals are a still worse sample, Catullus scarcely has a decent poem, I don't think Sappho's Ode a good example, Although Longinus tells us there is no hymn Where the sublime soars forth on wings more ample; But Virgil's songs are pure, except that horrid one Beginning with "Formosum Pastor Corydon."— filed under Poets
Their poet, a sad trimmer, but no less In company a very pleasant fellow, Had been the favorite of full many a mess Of men, and made them speeches when half mellow; And though his meaning they could rarely guess, Yet still they deign'd to hiccup or to bellow The glorious meed of popular applause, Of which the first ne'er knows the second cause.— filed under Popularity
Possession. I die, but first I have possess'd, And come what may, I have been bless'd.— filed under Possession
Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.— filed under Power
Father! no prophet's laws I seek, - Thy laws in Nature's works appear ;- I own myself corrupt and weak, Yet will I pray, for thou wilt hear.— filed under Prayer
Father of Light! great God of Heaven! Hear'st thou the accents of despair? Can guilt like man's be e'er forgiven? Can vice atone for crimes by prayer?— filed under Prayer
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind! Liberty! Brightest in dungeons, Liberty ! thou art, is the heartthou art, For there thy habitation is the heart— alone can The heart which love of thee alone can bind are consign'dbind; And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd— vault's dayless To fetters and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom.— filed under Prison
Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life! The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!— filed under Prophecy
Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe, Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast; Is that portentous phrase, "I told you so."— filed under Prophecy
Put himself upon his good behaviour.— filed under Pacuvius
The man that heweth over high, Some chip falleth in his eye. Story of Sir Eglamour of Artoys. MSS. in Garrick Collection. The many still must labor for the one.— filed under Iii
Perverts the Prophets, and purloins the Psalms.— filed under Quotation
With just enough of learning to misquote.— filed under Quotation
'Tis sweet to listen as the night winds creep From leaf to leaf; 'tis sweet to view on high The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky.— filed under Rain
I tell thee, be not rash; a golden bridge Is for a flying enemy.— filed under Recklessness
Who falls from all he knows of bliss, Care little into what abyss.— filed under Recklessness
Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel, He nursed the pinion, which impell'd the steel.— filed under Regret
C. Reviewers. L. 823. Sighing that Nature formed but one such man, And broke the die-in moulding Sheridan.— filed under Regret
There's naught, no doubt, so much the spirit calms as rum and true religion.— filed under Xxv
But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell. S.— filed under Repose
Here's a sigh to those who love me, And a smile to those who hate; And whatever sky's above me, Here's a heart for every fate.— filed under Resignation
The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted-they have torn me and I bleed! I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.— filed under Results
Sweet is revenge-especially to women.— filed under Revenge
Potomac. Rhine. The castled crag of Drachenfels, Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossom'd trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scatter'd cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine.— filed under Rivers-Potomac
Returning into Germany from France. Rhone. Is it not better, then, to be alone, And love Earth only for its earthly sake? By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone Or the pure bosom of its nursing lake.— filed under Rivers-Rhine
Tagus. On, on the vessel flies, the land is gone, And winds are rude, in Biscay's sleepless bay, Four days are sped, but with the fifth, anon, New shores descried make every bosom gay; And Cintra's mountain greets them on their way, And Tagus dashing onward to the deep, His fabled golden tribute bent to pay; And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap, And steer 'twixt fertile shores where yet few rustics reap.— filed under Rivers-Thames
Parent of golden dreams, Romance! Auspicious queen of childish joys, Who lead'st along, in airy dance, Thy votive train of girls and boys.— filed under Romance
Romances paint at full length people's wooings, But only give a bust of marriages : For no one cares for matrimonial cooings. There's nothing wrong in a connubial kiss. Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, He would have written sonnets all his life?— filed under Romance
S. There is a temple in ruin stands, Fashion'd by long forgotten hands: Two or three columns, and many a stone, Marble and granite, with grass o'ergrown!— filed under Ruin
Prose. XIII. Of all tales 'tis the saddest-and more sad, Because it makes us smile.— filed under Sadness
Cervantes smiled Spain's chivalry away.— filed under Scandal
Dead scandals form good subjects for dissection.— filed under Scandal
The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung. Where grew the arts of war and peace, - Where Delos rose, and Phœbus sprung! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.— filed under Sows
The mellow autumn came, and with it came The promised party, to enjoy its sweets. The corn is cut, the manor full of game; The pointer ranges, and the sportsman beats In russet jacket; -lynx-like is his aim; Full grows his bag, and wonderful his feats. Ah, nutbrown partridges! Ah, brilliant pheasants! And ah, ye poachers!-'Tis no sport for peasants.— filed under Sows
She bears her down majestically near, Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.— filed under Ships
She walks the waters like a thing of life, And seems to dare the elements to strife.— filed under Ships
Some hoisted out the boats, and there was one That begged Pedrillo for an absolution, Who told him to be damn'd, -in his confusion.— filed under Shipwreck
Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell- Then shriek'd the timid, and stood still the brave,- Then some leap'd overboard with fearful yell, As eager to anticipate their grave.— filed under Shipwreck
The best of remedies is a beefsteak Against sea-sickness; try it, sir, before You sneer, and I assure you this is true, For I have found it answer-so may you.— filed under Sickness
The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation, And for the bass, the beast can only bellow; In fact, he had no singing education, An ignorant, noteless, timeless, tuneless fellow.— filed under Singers
SKY (THE). And they were canopied by the blue sky, So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful, That God alone was to be seen in Heaven.— filed under Singers
Watching. Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality, And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy.— filed under Sleep
But owned that smile, if oft observed and near, Waned in its mirth, and wither'd to a sneer.— filed under Smiles
Among them, but not of them.— filed under Solitude
But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless.— filed under Solitude
He enter'd in his house-his home no more, For without hearts there is no home;-and felt The solitude of passing his own door Without a welcome.— filed under Solitude
He makes a solitude, and calls it-peace!— filed under Solitude
Herself the solitary scion left Of a time-honour'd race.— filed under Solitude
In solitude, when we are least alone.— filed under Solitude
This is to be alone; this, this is solitude!— filed under Solitude
'Tis solitude should teach us how to die; It hath no flatterers; vanity can give No hollow aid; alone-man with his God must strive.— filed under Solitude
That music in itself, whose sounds are song, The poetry of speech.— filed under Song
Midnight. Sorrow preys upon Its solitude and nothing more diverts it From its sad visions of the other world Than calling it at moments back to this. The busy have no time for tears.— filed under Sorrow
The dome of Thought, the palace of the Soul.— filed under Sorrow
His speech was a fine sample, on the whole, Ofrhetoric, which the learn'd call "rigmarole."— filed under Speech
Hark, hark! Deep sounds, and deeper still, Are howling from the mountain's bosom: There's not a breath of wind upon the hill, Yet quivers every leaf, and drops each blossom: Earth groans as if beneath a heavy load.— filed under Storm
The sky is changed!-and such a change! O night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman! Far along, From peak to peak the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder!— filed under Storm
A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!— filed under Story-Telling
Exhausting thought, And hiving wisdom with each studious year.— filed under Study
IV. They never fail who die In a great cause.— filed under Success
Balcony. It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill, Which then seems as if the whole earth is bounded, Circling all nature, hush'd, and dim, and still, With the far mountain-crescent half surrounded On one side, and the deep sea calm and chill Upon the other, and the rosy sky With one star sparkling through it like an eye.— filed under Sunset
Foul Superstition! howsoe'er disguised, Idol, saint, virgin, prophet, crescent, cross, For whatsoever symbol thou art prized, Thou sacerdotal gain, but general loss! Who from true worship's gold can separate thy dross?— filed under Superstition
Secession. Feb. 3, 1863. I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me, and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities torture.— filed under Sympathy
In the desert a fountain is springing, In the wide waste there still is a tree, And a bird in the solitude singing, Which speaks to my spirit of thee.— filed under Sympathy
Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound.— filed under Sympathy
Oh! too convincing-dangerously dear- In woman's eye the unanswerable tear! That weapon of her weakness she can wield, To save, subdue-at once her spear and shield.— filed under Tears
She was a good deal shock'd; not shock'd at tears, For women shed and use them at their liking; But there is something when man's eye appears Wet, still more disagreeable and striking.— filed under Tears
So bright the tear in Beauty's eye, Love half regrets to kiss it dry.— filed under Tears
There is a tear for all who die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave.— filed under Tears
of Sir Peter Parker, Bart. What gem hath dropp'd, and sparkles o'er his chain? The tear most sacred, shed for other's pain, That starts at once-bright pure-from Pity's mine, Already polish'd by the hand divine!— filed under Tears
Kill a man's family, and he may brook it, But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket.— filed under Thieving
I stood Among them, but not of them in a shroud Of thoughts which were not their thoughts.— filed under Thought
The power of Thought, -the magic of the Mind!— filed under Thought
What exile from himself can flee? To zones, though more and more remote, Still, still pursues, where'er I be, The blight of life-the demon Thought.— filed under Thought
Whatsoe'er thy birth, Thou wert a beautiful thought and softly bodied forth.— filed under Thought
Far along, From peak to peak the rattling crags among, Leaps the live thunder.— filed under Thunder
O Time! the beautifier of the dead, Adorner of the ruin, comforter And only healer when the heart hath bled- Time! the corrector where our judgments err, The test of truth, love, -sole philosopher, For all besides are sophists, from thy thrift Which never loses though it doth defer- Time, the avenger! unto thee I lift My hands, and eyes, and heart, and crave of thee a gift.— filed under Time
Out upon Time! it will leave no more Of the things to come than the things before! Out upon Time! who forever will leave But enough of the past for the future to grieve.— filed under Time
Think'st thou existence doth depend on time? It doth; but actions are our epochs; mine Have made my days and nights imperishable, Endless, and all alike.— filed under Time
Time writes no wrinkle on thy azure brow- Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.— filed under Time
When Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet.— filed under Time
Yet Time, who changes all, had altered him In soul and aspect as in age, years steal Fire from the mind as vigour from the limb: And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.— filed under Time
My boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea: But, before I go, Tom Moore, Here's a double health to thee!— filed under Toasts
Were 't the last drop in the well, As I gasp'd upon the brink, Ere my fainting spirit fell, 'Tis to thee that I would drink.— filed under Toasts
I depart, Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.— filed under Travelling
१. St. 1. Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native Land-Good-night!— filed under Travelling
Cypress. Cupressus. Dark tree! still sad when other's grief is fled, The only constant mourner o'er the dead. C.— filed under Trees And Plants-Chestnut
Oak. Quercus. Young Oak! when I planted thee deep in the ground, I hoped that thy days would be longer than mine; That thy dark-waving branches would flourish around, And ivy thy trunk with its mantle entwine.— filed under Trees And Plants-Linden
Pine. Pinus. Shaggy shade Of desert-loving pine, whose emerald scalp Nods to the storm.— filed under Trees And Plants-Palm
But now being lifted into high society, And having pick'd up several odds and ends Of free thoughts in his travels for variety, He deem'd, being in a lone isle, among friends, That without any danger of a riot, he Might for long lying make himself amends; And singing as he sung in his warm youth, Agree to a short armistice with truth.— filed under Truth
No words suffice the secret soul to show, For Truth denies all eloquence to Woe.— filed under Truth
'Tis strange-but true; for truth is always strange, Stranger than fiction.— filed under Truth
Parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till-'tis gone-and all is gray.— filed under Twilight
'Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters; like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.— filed under Twilight
Think'st thou there is no tyranny but that Of blood and chains? The despotism of vice- The weakness and the wickedness of luxury- The negligence-the apathy-the evils Of sensual sloth-produce ten thousand tyrants, Whose delegated cruelty surpasses The worst acts of one energetic master, However harsh and hard in his own bearing.— filed under Tyranny
Tyranny Is far the worst of treasons. Dost thou deem None rebels except subjects? The prince who Neglects or violates his trust is more A brigand than the robber-chief.— filed under Tyranny
Ecclesiastes said that "all is vanity," Most modern preachers say the same, or show it By their examples of true Christianity : In short, all know, or very soon may know it.— filed under Vanity
France. But all have prices, From crowns to kicks, according to their vices.— filed under Vice
To sanction Vice, and hunt Decorum down.— filed under Vice
The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice, An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.— filed under Voice
And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal, afar And near; the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering with white lips-"The foe! they come! they come!"— filed under War
Battle's magnificently stern array!— filed under War
Hand to hand, and foot to foot: Nothing there, save death, was mute; Stroke, and thrust, and flash, and cry For quarter or for victory, Mingle there with the volleying thunder.— filed under War
Like the leaves of the for when summer is when summer is green, That host with their bi mers at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown!— filed under War
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold.— filed under War
War, war is still the cry, "War even to the knife!"— filed under War
Till taught by pain, Men really know not what good water's worth; If you had been in Turkey or in Spain, Or with a famish'd boat's-crew had your berth, Or in the desert heard the camel's bell, You'd wish yourself where Truth is in a well.— filed under Water
'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home; 'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come.— filed under Welcome
Thing. Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life! The evening beam that smiles the clouds away And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray! S.— filed under Wife
As winds come whispering lightly from the West, Kissing, not ruffling, the blue deep's serene.— filed under Wind
Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach Who please, the more because they preach in vain,- Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter, Sermons and soda-water the day after.— filed under Wine And Spirits
Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels.— filed under Wine And Spirits
Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires The young, makes Weariness forget his toil, And Fear her danger; opens a new world When this, the present, palls.— filed under Wine And Spirits
Present Discontent. But these are foolish things to all the wise, And I love wisdom more than she loves me; My tendency is to philosophise On most things, from a tyrant to a tree; But still the spouseless virgin Knowledge flies, What are we? and whence come we? what shall be Our ultimate existence? What's our present? Are questions answerless, and yet incessant.— filed under Wisdom
A lady with her daughters or her nieces Shine like a guinea and seven-shilling pieces.— filed under Woman
And whether coldness, pride, or virtue dignify A woman, so she's good, what does it signify?— filed under Woman
And whispering, "I will ne'er consent"consented.— filed under Woman
But O ye lords of ladies intellectual, Inform us truly, have they not henpecked you all?— filed under Woman
But she was a soft landscape of mild earth, Where all was harmony, and calm, and quiet, Luxuriant, budding; cheerful without mirth.— filed under Woman
Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes, Soft as her clime, and sunny as her skies.— filed under Woman
Her stature tall-I hate a dumpy woman.— filed under Woman
I love the sex, and sometimes would reverse The tyrant's wish, "that mankind only had One neck, which he with one fell stroke might pierce; " My wish is quite as wide, but not so bad, And much more tender on the whole than fierce; It being (not now, but only while a lad) That womankind had but one rosy mouth, To kiss them all at once, from North to South.— filed under Woman
I've seen your stormy seas and stormy women, And pity lovers rather more than seamen.— filed under Woman
She was his life, The ocean to the river of his thoughts, Which terminated all.— filed under Woman
Soft as the memory of buried love, Pure as the prayer which childhood wafts above.— filed under Woman
What a strange thing is man! and what a stranger Is woman! What a whirlwind is her head, And what a whirlpool full of depth and danger Is all the rest about her.— filed under Woman
A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!— filed under Wonders
Do proper homage to thine idol's eyes; But not too humbly, or she will despise Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes: Disguise even tenderness, if thou art wise.— filed under Wooing
Not much he kens, I ween, of woman's breast, Who thinks that wanton thing is won by sighs.— filed under Wooing
Some are soon bagg'd but some reject three dozen. 'Tis fine to see them scattering refusals And wild dismay, o'er every angry cousin (Friends of the party) who begin accusals, Such as-" Unless Miss (Blank) meant to have chosen Poor Frederick, why did she accord perusals To his billets? Why waltz with him? Why, I pray, Look yes last night, and yet say No to-day?"— filed under Wooing
'Tis an old lesson; time approves it true, And those who know it best, deplore it most; When all is won that all desire to woo, The paltry prize is hardly worth the cost.— filed under Wooing
'Tis enough- Who listens once will listen twice; Her heart be sure is not of ice, And one refusal no rebuff.— filed under Wooing
Well, well, the world must turn upon its axis, And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails, And live and die, make love and pay our taxes, And as the veering winds shift, shift our sails.— filed under Work
Subsec. V. The heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old!- The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.— filed under Worship
What deep wounds ever closed without a scar? The heart's bleed longest, and but heal to wear That which disfigures it.— filed under Wounds
Ah! happy years! once more who would not be a boy!— filed under Wrongs
And both were young, and one was beautiful.— filed under Wrongs
Her years Were ripe, they might make six-and-twenty springs; But there are forms which Time to touch forbears, And turns aside his scythe to vulgar things.— filed under Wrongs