429 quotes
I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls
The burial-ground God's-Acre! It is just;
It consecrates each grave within its walls,
And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust.
Ballads and Other Poems (1842)
Alas! it is not till time, with reckless hand, has torn out half the leaves from the Book of Human Life to light the fires of passion with from day to day, that man begins to see that the leaves which remain are few in number.
Hyperion (1839)
It was the schooner Hesperus,
That sailed the wintry sea;
And the skipper had taken his little daughter,
To bear him company.
Ballads and Other Poems (1842)
The grave itself is but a covered bridge,
Leading from light to light, through a brief darkness!
The Golden Legend (1851)
For 'tis sweet to stammer one letter
Of the Eternal's language; — on earth it is called Forgiveness!
With useless endeavour
Forever, forever,
Is Sisyphus rolling
His stone up the mountain!
The Masque of Pandora (1875)
Hail to the King of Bethlehem,
Who weareth in his diadem
The yellow crocus for the gem
Of his authority!
And the bright faces of my young companions
Are wrinkled like my own, or are no more.
The Spanish Student (1843)
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
A town that boasts inhabitants like me
Can have no lack of good society.
Tales of a Wayside Inn (1863)
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers
May be heaven's distant lamps.
The Seaside and the Fireside (1850)
The air is full of farewells to the dying,
And mournings for the dead.
The Seaside and the Fireside (1850)
Nature with folded hands seemed there,
Kneeling at her evening prayer!
"Beware the pine tree's withered branch!
Beware the awful avalanche!"
Ballads and Other Poems (1842)
Like the river, swift and clear,
Flows his song through many a heart.
But the good deed, through the ages
Living in historic pages,
Brighter grows and gleams immortal,
Unconsumed by moth or rust.
The hooded clouds, like friars,
Tell their beads in drops of rain.
Voices of the Night (1839)
It is by the Vicar's skirts that the
Devil climbs into the Belfry.
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where.
But oftentimes celestial benedictions
Assume this dark disguise.
The Seaside and the Fireside (1850)