Edmund Clarence Stedman Quotes
1833–1908 United States
Edmund Clarence Stedman (October 8, 1833 – January 18, 1908) was an American poet, critic, and essayist born at Hartford, Connecticut.
- United States
- 19th-century poets
- Critics
- Essayists
- Poets
Also known as: E. C. Stedman, Stedman, Edmund Clarence
Random Edmund Clarence Stedman quote
19 quotes
The crystal-pointed tents from hill to hill.
Alice of Monmouth: an Idyl of the Great War (1864)
O, our feeble tests of greatness! Look for one so calm of soul
As to take the even chalice of his life and drink the whole.
Noble deeds are held in honor, but the wide world sorely needs
Hearts of patience to unravel this, — the worth of common deeds.
Flood-Tide (1860)
Give me to die unwitting of the day,
And stricken in Life's brave heat, with senses clear!
Alas, by what rude fate
Our lives, like ships at sea, an instant meet,
Then part forever on their courses fleet.
Worth, courage, honor, these indeed
Your sustenance and birthright are.
I loved: and in the morning sky,
A magic castle upward grew!
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."
The year of jubilee has come;
Gather the gifts of Earth with equal hand;
Henceforth ye too may share the birthright soil,
The corn, the wine, and all the harvest-home.
What if there be a fated day
When the Faery Isle shall pass away,
And its beautiful groves and fountains seem
The myths of a long, delicious dream!
Elfin Song (1850)
Could we but know
The land that ends our dark, uncertain travel.
I dare aver
He is a brave discoverer
Of climes his elders do not know.
He has more learning than appears
On the scroll of twice three thousand years.
Hopeless of all he dared to hope so long,
The music born within him dies away;
Even the song he loved becomes a pain,
Full-freighted with a yearning all in vain.
Crops failed; wealth took a flight; house, treasure, land,
Slipped from my hold—thus plenty comes and goes.
One friend I had, but he too loosed his hand
(Or was it I?) the year I met with Rose.
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.
Let the winds blow! a fiercer gale
Is wild within me! what may quell
That sullen tempest? I must sail
Whither, O whither, who can tell!
O child! dear child!
Above the clouds I lift my wing
To hear the bells of Heaven ring;
Some of their music, though my flights be wild,
To Earth I bring;
Then let me soar and sing!
The Singer (1860)
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.
At last the god cometh!
The air runs over with splendor;
The fire leaps high on the altar;
Melodious thunders shake the ground.
Hark to the Delphic responses!
Hark! it is the god!
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.
Alice of Monmouth: an Idyl of the Great War (1864)