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Our wearier spirit faints,
Vexed in the world‘s employ:
His soul was of the saints;
And art to him was joy.

— Lionel Johnson By the Statue of King Charles at Charing Cross (1895)

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More quotes by Lionel Johnson

Alone he rides, alone,
The fair and fatal king:
Dark night is all his own,
That strange and solemn thing.

By the Statue of King Charles at Charing Cross (1895)

Dark Angel, with thine aching lust
To rid the world of penitence:
Malicious Angel, who still dost
My soul such subtile violence!

The Dark Angel (1895)

Ill times may be; she hath no thought of time:
She reigns beside the waters yet in pride.

Some players upon plaintive strings
Publish their wistfulness abroad;
I have not spoken of these things,
Save to one man, and unto God.

Well fare she, well! As perfect beauty fares;
And those high places, that are beauty's home.

All Lionel Johnson quotes →

Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Lionel Johnson (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.