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The helm may rust, the laurel bough may fade,
Oblivion's grasp may blunt the victor's blade:
But that bright holy wreath which learning gives,
Untorn by hate, unharm'd by envy lives.

— James Grahame Misattributed

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More quotes by James Grahame

How still the morning of the hallow'd day!
Mute is the voice of rural labour, hush'd
The ploughboy's whistle, and the milkmaid's song.

A second blow of many flowers appears,
Flowers faintly ting'd and breathing no perfume.
But fruits, not blossoms, form the woodland wreath
That circles Autumn's brow.

Nature gives a parting smile.
As yet the blue-bells linger on the sod
That copes the sheepfold ring; and in the woods
A second blow of many flowers appears,
Flowers faintly ting'd and breathing no perfume.
But fruits, not blossoms, form the woodland wreath
That circles Autumn's brow.

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Attribution

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