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Fie upon thee, November! thou dost ape
The airs of thy young sisters, * * * thou hast stolen
The witching smile of May to grace thy lip,
And April's rare capricious loveliness
Thou'rt trying to put on!

— Julia Caroline Dorr

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More quotes by Julia Caroline Dorr

What dost thou bring to me, O fair To-day,
That comest o'er the mountains with swift feet?

To-Day; reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922)

O golden Silence, bid our souls be still,
And on the foolish fretting of our care
Lay thy soft touch of healing unaware!

Aspirations pure and high —
Strength to do and to endure —
Heir of all the Ages, I —
Lo! I am no longer poor!

Who soweth good seed shall surely reap;
The year grows rich as it groweth old,
And life's latest sands are its sands of gold!

Grass grows at last above all graves.

All Julia Caroline Dorr quotes →

Attribution

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