A Book of EpigramsWilliam S. Lord, 1902 - 24 pages |
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Page 3 - I STROVE with none, for none was worth my strife; Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art; I warmed both hands before the fire of life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
Page 12 - Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As, to be hated, needs but to be seen; Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.
Page 24 - The One remains, the many change and pass; Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly; Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, Stains the white radiance of Eternity, Until Death tramples it to fragments.
Page 12 - O ! many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant! And many a word, at random spoken, May soothe or wound a heart that's broken!
Page 17 - For Nature beats in perfect tune, And rounds with rhyme her every rune, Whether she work in land or sea, Or hide underground her alchemy. Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, Or dip thy paddle in the lake, But it carves the bow of beauty there, And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake.
Page 8 - The tear, down Childhood's cheek that flows, Is like the dew-drop on the rose ; When next the summer breeze comes by, And waves the bush, the flower is dry.
Page 22 - A MIGHTY pain to love it is, And 'tis a pain that pain to miss ; But, of all pains, the greatest pain It is to love, but love in vain.
Page 19 - To-morrow you will live, you always cry; In what far country does this morrow lie, That 'tis so mighty long ere it arrive? Beyond the Indies does this morrow live? Tis so far-fetched, this morrow, that I fear Twill be both very old and very dear. To-morrow I will live, the fool does say; To-day itselfs too late, the wise lived yesterday.
Page 13 - But talking is not always to converse, Not more distinct from harmony divine The constant creaking of a country sign.
Page 24 - One to destroy, is murder by the law ; And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe : To murder thousands, takes a specious name, " War's glorious art,