21 quotes
The little wind-flower, whose just opened eye
Is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at.
Poems (1832)
Weep not that the world changes—did it keep
A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed to weep.
Poems (1832)
And the blue gentian flower, that, in the breeze,
Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.
Poems (1832)
Loveliest of lovely things are they,
On earth, that soonest pass away.
The rose that lives its little hour
Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.
Poems (1832)
Maidens hearts are always soft:
Would that men's were truer!
Poems (1832)
Vainly the fowler's eye
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
As, darkly painted on the crimson sky,
Thy figure floats along.
Poems (1832)
Thine eyes are springs in whose serene
And silent waters heaven is seen;
Their lashes are the herbs that look
On their young figures in the brook.
Poems (1832)
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere.
Poems (1832)
All things that are on earth shall wholly pass away,
Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye.
Poems (1832)
Here the free spirit of mankind, at length,
Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place
A limit to the giant's unchained strength,
Or curb his swiftness in the forward race!
Poems (1832)
Thou unrelenting Past!
Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain,
And fetters, sure and fast,
Hold all that enter thy unbreathing reign.
Poems (1832)
Remorse is virtue's root; its fair increase
Are fruits of innocence and blessedness.
Poems (1832)
He who, from zone to zone,
Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
In the long way that I must tread alone,
Will lead my steps aright.
Poems (1832)
Ah, why
Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect
God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore
Only among the crowd and under roofs
That our frail hands have raised?
Poems (1832)
The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore,
And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
Poems (1832)
But ’neath yon crimson tree
Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame,
Nor mark, within its roseate canopy,
Her blush of maiden shame.
Poems (1832)
The stormy March has come at last,
With winds and clouds and changing skies;
I hear the rushing of the blast
That through the snowy valley flies.
Poems (1832)
The groves were God's first temples.
Poems (1832)
They talk of short-lived pleasures—be it so—
pain dies as quickly: stern, hard-featured pain
Expires, and lets her weary prisoner go.
The fiercest agonies have shortest reign;
And after dreams of horror, comes again
The welcome morning with its rays of peace.
Poems (1832)
There is a day of sunny rest
For every dark and troubled night;
And a grief may bid, and evening guest,
Bot joy shall come with early light
Poems (1832)