Quotes
Quotes - Barbauld
Man is the nobler growth our realms supply,
And souls are ripened in our northern sky.
This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,
And Wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.
It is to hope, though hope were lost.
Life! we 've been long together
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
'T is hard to part when friends are dear,--
Perhaps 't will 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."
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.
Child of mortality, whence comest thou? Why is thy countenance sad, and why are thine eyes red with weeping?
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.
When one by one our ties are torn, and friend from friend is snatched forlorn; When man is left alone to mourn, oh! then how sweet it is to die!.
It is to hope, though hope were lost.
Man is the nobler growth our realms supply And souls are ripened in our northern sky.
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.
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.
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.
Child of mortality, whence comest thou? Why is thy countenance sad, and why are thine eyes red with weeping?
The dead of midnight is the noon of thought.
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.
We neither laugh alone, nor weep alone, why then should we pray alone?
