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Meek-eyed Eve, her cheek yet warm with blushes, slow retires through the Hesperian gardens of the west, and shuts the gates of day.
Sweet daughter of a rough and stormy sire, hoar Winter's blooming child, delightful Spring.
The awakenings of remorse, virtuous shame and indignation, the glow of moral approbation if they do not lead to action, grow less and less vivid every time they occur, till at length the mind grows absolutely callous.
The first pale blossom of the unripened year.
The harvest song of inward peace.
This dead of midnight is the noon of thought, and wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.
Twin sister of awkwardness.
We can only love what we know.
Wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.
Wisdom! I bless thy gentle sway, and ever, ever will obey.
With regard to the choice of friends, there is little to say; for a friend is never chosen. A secret sympathy, the attraction of a thousand nameless qualities, a charm in the expression of the countenance, even in the voice or manner, a similarity of circumstances--these are the things that begin attachment.
Fair Venus shines
Even in the eye of day; with sweetest beam
Propitious shines, and shakes a trembling flood
Of softened radiance from her dewy locks.
- A Summer Evening's Meditation (l. 10)
Is there not
A tongue in every star that talks with man,
And wooes him to be wise? nor wooes in vain;
This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,
And wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.
- A Summer Evening's Meditation (l. 48)
It is to hope, though hope were lost.
- Come here, Fond Youth [Hope]
And when 'midst fallen London they survey
The stone where Alexander's ashes lay,
Shall own with humble pride the lesson just
By Time's slow finger written in the dust.
- Eighteen Hundred and Eleven [Ruin]
Child of mortality, whence comest thou? Why is thy countenance sad, and why are thine eyes red with weeping?
- Hymns in Prose (XIII) [Sadness]
Life! we've been long together
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather:
'Tis hard to part when friends are dear:
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;
Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time,
Say not Good-night,--but in some brighter clime
Bid me Good-morning.
- Life [Life]
Cruel Remorse! where Youth and Pleasure sport,
And thoughtless Folly keeps her court,--
Crouching 'midst rosy bowers thou lurk'st unseen
Slumbering the festal hours away,
While Youth disports in that enchanting scene;
Till on some fated day
Thou with a tiger-spring dost leap upon thy prey,
And tear his helpless breast, o'erwhelmed with wild dismay.
- Ode to Remorse (st. 6) [Remorse]
So fades a summer cloud away;
So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;
So gently shuts the eye of day;
So dies a wave along the shore.
- The Death of the Virtuous [Death]
Man is the nobler growth our realms supply
And souls are ripened in our northern sky.
- The Invitation [Man]
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