FAMILIAR QUOTATIONS. (continued 11)

What 's come to perfection perishes. Things learned on earth we shall practise in heaven; Works done least rapidly Art most cherishes. Old Pictures in Florence. xvii.

Italy, my Italy! Queen Mary's saying serves for me (When fortune's malice Lost her Calais): "Open my heart, and you will see Graved inside of it 'Italy.'" De Gustibus. ii.

That 's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture. Home-Thoughts from Abroad. ii.

God made all the creatures, and gave them our love and our fear, To give sign we and they are his children, one family here. Saul. vi.

How good is man's life, the mere living! how fit to employ All the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy! Saul. ix.

'T is not what man does which exalts him, but what man would do. Saul. xvii.

O woman-country![647:1] wooed not wed, Loved all the more by earth's male-lands, Laid to their hearts instead. By the Fireside. vi.

That great brow And the spirit-small hand propping it. By the Fireside. xxiii.

If two lives join, there is oft a scar. They are one and one, with a shadowy third; One near one is too far. By the Fireside. xlvi.

Only I discern Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn. Two in the Campagna. xii.

Round and round, like a dance of snow In a dazzling drift, as its guardians, go Floating the women faded for ages, Sculptured in stone on the poet's pages. Women and Roses.

How he lies in his rights of a man! Death has done all death can. And absorbed in the new life he leads, He recks not, he heeds Nor his wrong nor my vengeance; both strike On his senses alike, And are lost in the solemn and strange Surprise of the change. After.

Ah, did you once see Shelley plain, And did he stop and speak to you, And did you speak to him again? How strange it seems, and new! Memorabilia. i.

He who did well in war just earns the right To begin doing well in peace. Luria. Act ii.

And inasmuch as feeling, the East's gift, Is quick and transient,—comes, and lo! is gone, While Northern thought is slow and durable. Luria. Act v.

A people is but the attempt of many To rise to the completer life of one; And those who live as models for the mass Are singly of more value than they all. Luria. Act v.

I count life just a stuff To try the soul's strength on. In a Balcony.

Was there nought better than to enjoy? No feat which, done, would make time break, And let us pent-up creatures through Into eternity, our due? No forcing earth teach heaven's employ? Dîs Aliter Visum; or, Le Byron de nos Jours.

There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall live as before; The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound; What was good shall be good, with for evil so much good more; On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect round. Abt Vogler. ix.

Then welcome each rebuff That turns earth's smoothness rough, Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand, but go! Be our joys three-parts pain! Strive, and hold cheap the strain; Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe! Rabbi Ben Ezra.

What I aspired to be, And was not, comforts me. Rabbi Ben Ezra.

Earth changes, but thy soul and God stand sure. Rabbi Ben Ezra.

For life, with all it yields of joy and woe, And hope and fear (believe the aged friend), Is just our chance o' the prize of learning love,— How love might be, hath been indeed, and is. A Death in the Desert.

The body sprang At once to the height, and stayed; but the soul,—no! A Death in the Desert.

What? Was man made a wheel-work to wind up, And be discharged, and straight wound up anew? No! grown, his growth lasts; taught, he ne'er forgets: May learn a thousand things, not twice the same. A Death in the Desert.

For I say this is death and the sole death,— When a man's loss comes to him from his gain, Darkness from light, from knowledge ignorance, And lack of love from love made manifest. A Death in the Desert.

Progress, man's distinctive mark alone, Not God's, and not the beasts: God is, they are; Man partly is, and wholly hopes to be. A Death in the Desert.

The ultimate, angels' law, Indulging every instinct of the soul There where law, life, joy, impulse are one thing! A Death in the Desert.

How sad and bad and mad it was! But then, how it was sweet! Confessions. ix.

So may a glory from defect arise. Deaf and Dumb.

This could but have happened once,— And we missed it, lost it forever. Youth and Art. xvii.

Fear death?—to feel the fog in my throat, The mist in my face. . . . . . . . No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers, The heroes of old; Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears Of pain, darkness, and cold. Prospice.

It 's wiser being good than bad; It 's safer being meek than fierce; It 's fitter being sane than mad. My own hope is, a sun will pierce The thickest cloud earth ever stretched; That after Last returns the First, Though a wide compass round be fetched; That what began best can't end worst, Nor what God blessed once prove accurst. Apparent Failure. vii.

In the great right of an excessive wrong. The Ring and the Book. The other Half-Rome. Line 1055.

Was never evening yet But seemed far beautifuller than its day. The Ring and the Book. Pompilia. Line 357.

The curious crime, the fine Felicity and flower of wickedness. The Ring and the Book. The Pope. Line 590.

Of what I call God, And fools call Nature. The Ring and the Book. The Pope. Line 1073.

Why comes temptation, but for man to meet And master and make crouch beneath his foot, And so be pedestaled in triumph? The Ring and the Book. The Pope. Line 1185.

White shall not neutralize the black, nor good Compensate bad in man, absolve him so: Life's business being just the terrible choice. The Ring and the Book. The Pope. Line 1236.

It is the glory and good of Art That Art remains the one way possible Of speaking truth,—to mouths like mine, at least. The Book and the Ring. The Pope. Line 842.

Thy[651:1] rare gold ring of verse (the poet praised) Linking our England to his Italy. The Ring and the Book. The Pope. Line 873.

But how carve way i' the life that lies before, If bent on groaning ever for the past? Balaustion's Adventure.

Better have failed in the high aim, as I, Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed,— As, God be thanked! I do not. The Inn Album. iv.

Have you found your life distasteful? My life did, and does, smack sweet. Was your youth of pleasure wasteful? Mine I saved and hold complete. Do your joys with age diminish? When mine fail me, I 'll complain. Must in death your daylight finish? My sun sets to rise again. At the "Mermaid." Stanza 10.

"With this same key Shakespeare unlocked his heart"[652:1] once more! Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare he! House. x.

God's justice, tardy though it prove perchance, Rests never on the track until it reach Delinquency.[652:2] Cenciaja.

Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green, That creepeth o'er ruins old! Of right choice food are his meals, I ween, In his cell so lone and cold. Creeping where no life is seen, A rare old plant is the ivy green. Pickwick Papers. Chap. vi.

Thought is deeper than all speech, Feeling deeper than all thought; Souls to souls can never teach What unto themselves was taught. Stanzas.

We are spirits clad in veils; Man by man was never seen; All our deep communing fails To remove the shadowy screen. Stanzas.

For right is right, since God is God,[653:1] And right the day must win; To doubt would be disloyalty, To falter would be sin. The Right must win.

Labour itself is but a sorrowful song, The protest of the weak against the strong. The Sorrowful World.

Cleon hath a million acres,—ne'er a one have I; Cleon dwelleth in a palace,—in a cottage I. Cleon and I.

But the sunshine aye shall light the sky, As round and round we run; And the truth shall ever come uppermost, And justice shall be done. Eternal Justice. Stanza 4.

Aid the dawning, tongue and pen; Aid it, hopes of honest men! Clear the Way.

Some love to roam o'er the dark sea's foam, Where the shrill winds whistle free. Some love to roam.

There 's a good time coming, boys! A good time coming. The Good Time coming.

Old Tubal Cain was a man of might In the days when earth was young. Tubal Cain.

I slept, and dreamed that life was Beauty; I woke, and found that life was Duty. Was thy dream then a shadowy lie? Toil on, poor heart, unceasingly; And thou shalt find thy dream to be A truth and noonday light to thee. Life a Duty.

We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. Life 's but a means unto an end; that end Beginning, mean, and end to all things,—God. Festus. Scene, A Country Town.

Poets are all who love, who feel great truths, And tell them; and the truth of truths is love. Scene, Another and a Better World.

America! half-brother of the world! With something good and bad of every land. Scene, The Surface.

I love it, I love it, and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old arm-chair? The Old Arm-Chair.

How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start When memory plays an old tune on the heart! Old Dobbin.

For it stirs the blood in an old man's heart, And makes his pulses fly, To catch the thrill of a happy voice And the light of a pleasant eye. Saturday Afternoon.

It is the month of June, The month of leaves and roses, When pleasant sights salute the eyes, And pleasant scents the noses. The Month of June.

Let us weep in our darkness, but weep not for him! Not for him who, departing, leaves millions in tears! Not for him who has died full of honor and years! Not for him who ascended Fame's ladder so high From the round at the top he has stepped to the sky. The Death of Harrison.

I laugh, for hope hath happy place with me; If my bark sinks, 't is to another sea. A Poet's Hope.

I sing New England, as she lights her fire In every Prairie's midst; and where the bright Enchanting stars shine pure through Southern night, She still is there, the guardian on the tower, To open for the world a purer hour. New England.

Most joyful let the Poet be; It is through him that all men see. The Poet of the Old and New Times.

Earth's noblest thing,—a woman perfected. Irené.

Be noble! and the nobleness that lies In other men, sleeping but never dead, Will rise in majesty to meet thine own. Sonnet iv.

Great truths are portions of the soul of man; Great souls are portions of eternity. Sonnet vi.

To win the secret of a weed's plain heart. Sonnet xxv.

Two meanings have our lightest fantasies,— One of the flesh, and of the spirit one. Sonnet xxxiv. (Ed. 1844.)

All thoughts that mould the age begin Deep down within the primitive soul. An Incident in a Railroad Car.

It may be glorious to write Thoughts that shall glad the two or three High souls, like those far stars that come in sight Once in a century. An Incident in a Railroad Car.

No man is born into the world whose work Is not born with him. There is always work, And tools to work withal, for those who will; And blessed are the horny hands of toil. A Glance behind the Curtain.

They are slaves who fear to speak For the fallen and the weak. . . . . They are slaves who dare not be In the right with two or three. Stanzas on Freedom.

Endurance is the crowning quality, And patience all the passion of great hearts. Columbus.

One day with life and heart Is more than time enough to find a world. Columbus.

Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide, In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side; Some great cause, God's new Messiah offering each the bloom or blight, Parts the goats upon the left hand, and the sheep upon the right; And the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and that light. The Present Crisis.

Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne. The Present Crisis.

Then to side with Truth is noble when we share her wretched crust, Ere her cause bring fame and profit, and 't is prosperous to be just; Then it is the brave man chooses, while the coward stands aside, Doubting in his abject spirit, till his Lord is crucified. The Present Crisis.

Before man made us citizens, great Nature made us men. On the Capture of Fugitive Slaves near Washington.

Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way, Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold. To the Dandelion.

This child is not mine as the first was; I cannot sing it to rest; I cannot lift it up fatherly, And bless it upon my breast. Yet it lies in my little one's cradle, And sits in my little one's chair, And the light of the heaven she 's gone to Transfigures its golden hair. The Changeling.

The thing we long for, that we are For one transcendent moment. Longing.

She doeth little kindnesses Which most leave undone, or despise. My Love. iv.

Not only around our infancy Doth heaven with all its splendors lie; Daily, with souls that cringe and plot, We Sinais climb and know it not. The Vision of Sir Launfal. Prelude to Part First.

'T is heaven alone that is given away; 'T is only God may be had for the asking. The Vision of Sir Launfal. Prelude to Part First.

And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays. The Vision of Sir Launfal. Prelude to Part First.

Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it; We are happy now because God wills it. The Vision of Sir Launfal. Prelude to Part First.

Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how. The Vision of Sir Launfal. Prelude to Part First.

Who gives himself with his alms feeds three,— Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me. The Vision of Sir Launfal. Part Second. viii.

There comes Emerson first, whose rich words, every one, Are like gold nails in temples to hang trophies on. A Fable for Critics.

Nature fits all her children with something to do. A Fable for Critics.

Ez fer war, I call it murder,— There you hev it plain an' flat; I don't want to go no furder Than my Testyment fer that. . . . . . An' you 've gut to git up airly Ef you want to take in God. The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. i.

Laborin' man an' laborin' woman Hev one glory an' one shame; Ev'y thin' thet 's done inhuman Injers all on 'em the same. The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. i.

This goin' ware glory waits ye haint one agreeable feetur.[659:1] The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. ii.

Gineral C. is a dreffle smart man; He 's ben on all sides thet give places or pelf; But consistency still wuz a part of his plan,— He 's ben true to one party, an' thet is himself. The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. ii.

We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage. The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. iii.

But John P. Robinson, he Sez they did n't know everythin' down in Judee. The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. iii.

I don't believe in princerple, But oh I du in interest. The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. vi.

Of my merit On thet pint you yourself may jedge; All is, I never drink no sperit, Nor I haint never signed no pledge. The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. vii.

Ez to my princerples, I glory In hevin' nothin' o' the sort. The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. vii.

Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown An' peeked in thru' the winder, An' there sot Huldy all alone, 'Ith no one nigh to hender. The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'.

The very room, coz she was in, Seemed warm from floor to ceilin'. The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'.

'T was kin' o' kingdom-come to look On sech a blessed cretur. The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'.

His heart kep' goin' pity-pat, But hern went pity-Zekle. The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'.

All kin' o' smily round the lips, An' teary round the lashes. The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'.

Like streams that keep a summer mind Snow-hid in Jenooary. The Biglow Papers. Second Series. The Courtin'.

Our Pilgrim stock wuz pithed with hardihood. The Biglow Papers. Second Series. No. vi.

Soft-heartedness, in times like these, Shows sof'ness in the upper story. The Biglow Papers. Second Series. No. vii.

Earth's biggest country 's gut her soul, An' risen up earth's greatest nation. The Biglow Papers. Second Series. No. vii.

Under the yaller pines I house, When sunshine makes 'em all sweet-scented, An' hear among their furry boughs The baskin' west-wind purr contented. The Biglow Papers. Second Series. No. x.

Wut 's words to them whose faith an' truth On war's red techstone rang true metal; Who ventered life an' love an' youth For the gret prize o' death in battle? The Biglow Papers. Second Series. No. x.

From lower to the higher next, Not to the top, is Nature's text; And embryo Good, to reach full stature, Absorbs the Evil in its nature. Festina Lente. Moral.

Though old the thought and oft exprest, 'T is his at last who says it best.[660:1] For an Autograph.

Nature, they say, doth dote, And cannot make a man Save on some worn-out plan, Repeating us by rote. Ode at the Harvard Commemoration, July 21, 1865.

Here was a type of the true elder race, And one of Plutarch's men talked with us face to face. Ode at the Harvard Commemoration, July 21, 1865.

Safe in the hallowed quiets of the past. The Cathedral.

The one thing finished in this hasty world. The Cathedral.

These pearls of thought in Persian gulfs were bred, Each softly lucent as a rounded moon; The diver Omar plucked them from their bed, Fitzgerald strung them on an English thread. In a copy of Omar Khayyám.

The clear, sweet singer with the crown of snow Not whiter than the thoughts that housed below. To George William Curtis.

But life is sweet, though all that makes it sweet Lessen like sound of friends' departing feet; And Death is beautiful as feet of friend Coming with welcome at our journey's end. For me Fate gave, whate'er she else denied, A nature sloping to the southern side; I thank her for it, though when clouds arise Such natures double-darken gloomy skies. To George William Curtis.

In life's small things be resolute and great To keep thy muscle trained: know'st thou when Fate Thy measure takes, or when she 'll say to thee, "I find thee worthy; do this deed for me"? Epigram.

In vain we call old notions fudge, And bend our conscience to our dealing; The Ten Commandments will not budge, And stealing will continue stealing. Motto of the American Copyright League (written Nov. 20, 1885).

O Mary, go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, Across the sands o' Dee! The Sands of Dee.

Men must work, and women must weep. The Three Fishers.

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; Do noble things, not dream them, all day long: And so make life, death, and that vast forever One grand sweet song. A Farewell.

The world goes up and the world goes down, And the sunshine follows the rain; And yesterday's sneer and yesterday's frown Can never come over again. Dolcino to Margaret.

Others abide our question. Thou art free. We ask and ask. Thou smilest and art still, Out-topping knowledge. Shakespeare.

Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew! In quiet she reposes; Ah, would that I did too! Requiescat.

To hear the world applaud the hollow ghost Which blamed the living man. Growing Old.

Time may restore us in his course Goethe's sage mind and Byron's force; But where will Europe's latter hour Again find Wordsworth's healing power? Memorial Verses.

Wandering between two worlds,—one dead, The other powerless to be born. Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse.

The kings of modern thought are dumb. Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse.

On a lone barren isle, where the wild roaring billows Assail the stern rock, and the loud tempests rave, The hero lies still, while the dew-drooping willows, Like fond weeping mourners, lean over his grave. The lightnings may flash and the loud thunders rattle; He heeds not, he hears not, he 's free from all pain; He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle; No sound can awake him to glory again![666:1] The Grave of Bonaparte.

Yet spirit immortal, the tomb cannot bind thee, But like thine own eagle that soars to the sun Thou springest from bondage and leavest behind thee A name which before thee no mortal hath won. Tho' nations may combat, and war's thunders rattle, No more on thy steed wilt thou sweep o'er the plain: Thou sleep'st thy last sleep, thou hast fought thy last battle, No sound can awake thee to glory again. The Grave of Bonaparte.

Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold. Bedouin Song.

They sang of love, and not of fame; Forgot was Britain's glory; Each heart recall'd a different name, But all sang Annie Lawrie. The Song of the Camp.

The bravest are the tenderest,— The loving are the daring. The Song of the Camp.

Two hands upon the breast, And labour 's done;[667:1] Two pale feet crossed in rest, The race is won. Now and Afterwards.

Like a pale martyr in his shirt of fire. A Life Drama. Sc. ii.

In winter, when the dismal rain Comes down in slanting lines, And Wind, that grand old harper, smote His thunder-harp of pines. A Life Drama. Sc. ii.

A poem round and perfect as a star. A Life Drama. Sc. ii.

A song to the oak, the brave old oak, Who hath ruled in the greenwood long! The Brave Old Oak.

Then here 's to the oak, the brave old oak, Who stands in his pride alone! And still flourish he a hale green tree When a hundred years are gone! The Brave Old Oak.

Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight! Make me a child again, just for to-night! Rock me to sleep.

Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years! I am so weary of toil and of tears,— Toil without recompense, tears all in vain! Take them, and give me my childhood again! Rock me to sleep.

Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day; Love and tears for the Blue, Tears and love for the Gray.[668:1] The Blue and the Gray.

Which I wish to remark,— And my language is plain,— That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar. Plain Language from Truthful James.

Ah Sin was his name. Plain Language from Truthful James.

With the smile that was childlike and bland. Plain Language from Truthful James.

The night has a thousand eyes, And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is done. Light.