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All the seasons run their race
In this quiet resting place;
Peach, and apricot, and fig
Here will ripen, and grow big;
Here is store and overplus,—
More had not Alcinoüs!

— Henry Austin Dobson At the Sign of the Lyre (1885)

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More quotes by Henry Austin Dobson

Fame is a food that dead men eat,—
I have no stomach for such meat.

Fame Is a Food That Dead Men Eat (1906)

Love comes unseen,—we only see it go.

Vignettes in Rhyme and Vers de Societé (1873)

Time goes, you say? Ah, no!
Alas, Time stays, we go.

Old-World Idylls and Other Verses (1883)

Carry his body hence,—
Kings must have slaves;
Kings climb to eminence
Over men's graves:
So this man's eye is dim;—
Throw the earth over him.

Vignettes in Rhyme and Vers de Societé (1873)

In merest prudence men should teach […]
That science ranks as monstrous things
Two pairs of upper limbs; so wings—
E'en angels' wings!—are fictions.

At the Sign of the Lyre (1885)

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Attribution

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