13 quotes
Oh, how hard it is to find
The one just suited to our mind!
Theodric: A Domestic Tale; and Other Poems (1825)
Absence! is not the soul torn by it
From more than light, or life, or breath?
'Tis Lethe's gloom, but not its quiet,—
The pain without the peace of death!
Theodric: A Domestic Tale; and Other Poems (1825)
Star that bringest home the bee,
And sett'st the weary labourer free!
Theodric: A Domestic Tale; and Other Poems (1825)
And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams,
But words of the Most High,
Have told why first thy robe of beams
Was woven in the sky.
Theodric: A Domestic Tale; and Other Poems (1825)
All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom,
The Sun himself must die,
Before this mortal shall assume
Its Immortality!
Theodric: A Domestic Tale; and Other Poems (1825)
Drink ye to her that each loves best!
And if you nurse a flame
That's told but to her mutual breast,
We will not ask her name.
Theodric: A Domestic Tale; and Other Poems (1825)
I saw the last of human mould,
That shall Creation's death behold,
As Adam saw her prime!
Theodric: A Domestic Tale; and Other Poems (1825)
Again to the battle, Achaians!
Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance!
Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tree,
It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free.
Theodric: A Domestic Tale; and Other Poems (1825)
Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky
When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy
To teach me what thou art. —
Still seem, as to my childhood's sight,
A midway station given,
For happy spirits to alight,
Betwixt the earth and heaven.
Theodric: A Domestic Tale; and Other Poems (1825)
Roland, the flower of Chivalry,
Expired at Roncevall.
Theodric: A Domestic Tale; and Other Poems (1825)
How glorious is thy girdle cast
O'er mountain, tower, and town,
Or mirror'd in the ocean vast,
A thousand fathoms down!
As fresh in yon horizon dark,
As young thy beauties seem,
As when the eagle from the ark
First sported in thy beam.
For, faithful to its sacred page,
Heaven still rebuilds thy span,
Nor lets the type grow pale with age
That first spoke peace to man.
Theodric: A Domestic Tale; and Other Poems (1825)
Can all that optics teach, unfold
Thy form to please me so,
As when I dreamt of gems and gold
Hid in thy radiant bow?
When Science from Creation's face
Enchantment's veil withdraws,
What lovely visions yield their place
To cold material laws!
And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams,
But words of the Most High,
Have told why first thy robe of beams
Was woven in the sky.
Theodric: A Domestic Tale; and Other Poems (1825)
Methinks, thy jubilee to keep,
The first-made anthem rang
On earth deliver'd from the deep,
And the first poet sang.
Nor ever shall the Muse's eye
Unraptured greet thy beam:
Theme of primeval prophecy,
Be still the poet's theme!
Theodric: A Domestic Tale; and Other Poems (1825)