Quotes
Quotes about Land
When Shakespeare is charged with debts to his authors, Landor replies, "Yet he was more original than his originals. He breathed upon dead bodies and brought them into life."
Old England is our home, and Englishmen are we;
Our tongue is known in every clime, our flag in every sea.
New England's dead. New England's dead!
On every hill they lie;
On every field of strife, made red
By bloody victory.
The land is holy where they fought
And holy where they fell;
For by their blood that land was bought,
The land they loved so well.
I'm bidding you a long farewell,
My Mary, kind and true,
But I'll not forget you, darling,
In the land I'm going to.
They say there's bread and work for all,
And the sun shines always there;
But I'll not forget old Ireland,
Were it fifty times as fair.
Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time,
So "Bonnie Doon" but tarry;
Blot out the epic's stately rhyme,
But spare his "Highland Mary!"
I know not where His islands lift
Their fronded palms in air;
I only know I cannot drift
Beyond His love and care.
My country, 't is of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing:
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride,
From every mountain-side
Let freedom ring.
Our fathers' God, to thee,
Author of liberty,
To thee I sing;
Long may our land be bright
With freedom's holy light;
Protect us by thy might,
Great God, our King!
Truth is generally the best vindication against slander.
Ah, when shall all men's good
Be each man's rule, and universal peace
Lie like a shaft of light across the land,
And like a lane of beams athwart the sea,
Thro' all the circle of the golden year?
For this is England's greatest son,
He that gained a hundred fights,
And never lost an English gun.
Not once or twice in our rough-island story
The path of duty was the way to glory.
O Love! what hours were thine and mine,
In lands of palm and southern pine;
In lands of palm, of orange-blossom,
Of olive, aloe, and maize and vine!
And from his ashes may be made
The violet of his native land.
Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand!
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be!
One still strong man in a blatant land.
I am going a long way
With these thou seest--if indeed I go
(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)--
To the island-valley of Avilion,
Where falls not hail or rain or any snow,
Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies
Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns
And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea,
Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
No sound is breathed so potent to coerce
And to conciliate, as their names who dare
For that sweet mother-land which gave them birth
Nobly to do, nobly to die.
Youth, with swift feet walks onward in the way;
The land of joy lies all before his eyes;
Age, stumbling, lingers slowly day by day,
Still looking back, for it behind him lies.
The freeman casting with unpurchased hand
The vote that shakes the turrets of the land.
One flag, one land, one heart, one hand,
One Nation evermore!
It was the calm and silent night!
Seven hundred years and fifty-three
Had Rome been growing up to might,
And now was queen of land and sea.
No sound was heard of clashing wars,
Peace brooded o'er the hushed domain;
Apollo, Pallas, Jove, and Mars
Held undisturbed their ancient reign
In the solemn midnight,
Centuries ago.
Far and few, far and few,
Are the lands where the Jumblies live:
Their heads are green and their hands are blue
And they went to sea in a sieve.
They sailed away for a year and a day
To the land where the bong-tree grows.
