Quotes
Quotes about Day
But when a snowflake, brave and meek,
Lights on a rosy maiden's cheek,
It starts--"How warm and soft the day!"
"'T is summer!" and it melts away.
Through love to light! Oh wonderful the way
That leads from darkness to the perfect day!
Behind the western bars
The shrouded day retreats,
And unperceived the stars
Steal to their sovran seats.
And whiter grows the foam,
The small moon lightens more;
And as I turn me home,
My shadow walks before.
Gather leaves and grasses,
Love, to-day;
For the Autumn passes
Soon away.
Chilling winds are blowing.
It will soon be snowing.
The Autumn seems to cry for thee,
Best lover of the Autumn-days!
The tasks are done and the tears are shed.
Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover;
Yesterday's wounds, which smarted and bled,
Are healed with the healing that night has shed.
When the first just and friendly man appeared on the earth, from that day a fatal Waterloo was visible for all the men of pride and fraud and blood.
? John Bartlett, compWhat men have done can still be done
And shall be done to-day.
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
? John Bartlett, compEngland's sun was slowly setting o'er the hill-tops far away,
Filling all the land with beauty at the close of one sad day;
And its last rays kissed the forehead of a man and maiden fair,--
He with footsteps slow and weary; she with sunny, floating hair;
He with bowed head, sad and thoughtful; she with lips so cold and white,
Struggled to keep back the murmur, "Curfew must not ring to-night."
? John Bartlett, compThe 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.
Ah woe is me, through all my days
Wisdom and wealth I both have got,
And fame and name and great men's praise;
But Love, ah! Love I have it not.
All that we know who lie in gaol
Is that the wall is strong;
And that each day is like a year,
A year whose days are long.
A hundred thousand men were led
By one calf near three centuries dead;
They followed still his crooked way
And lost a hundred years a day;
For thus such reverence is lent
To well-established precedent.
On from room to room I stray,
Yet mine Host can ne'er espy,
And I know not to this day,
Whether guest or captive I.
I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the midst of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high, we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.
Here's to the day when it is May
And care as light as a feather,
When your little shoes and my big boots
Go tramping over the heather.
? John Bartlett, compEverything has an ending: there will be
An ending one sad day for you and me,
And ending of the days we had together,
The good companionship, all kinds of weather.
To-day, whatever may annoy,
The word for me is Joy, just simple Joy.
Whate'er there be of Sorrow
I'll put off till To-morrow,
And when To-morrow comes, why then
'T will be To-day and Joy again.
For me, my craft is sailing on,
Through mists to-day, clear seas anon.
Whate'er the final harbor be
'T is good to sail upon the sea!
? John Bartlett, compAt daybreak Morn shall come to me
In raiment of the white winds spun.
I am immortal! I know it! I feel it!
Hope floods my heart with delight!
Running on air, mad with life, dizzy, reeling,
Upward I mount--faith is sight, life is feeling,
Hope is the day-star of might!
Farewell to Lochaber, farewell to my Jean,
Where heartsome wi' thee I hae mony days been;
For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more,
We 'll maybe return to Lochaber no more.
