Jones Very

(28 August 1813 – 8 May 1880 / Salem, Massachusetts)

Quotations

  • ''It is the way unseen, the certain route,
    Where ever bound, yet thou art ever free;
    The path of Him, whose perfect law of love
    Bids spheres and atoms in just order move.''
    Jones Very (1831-1880), U.S. poet. The Hand and Foot (l. 11-14). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.
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  • '''Tis to yourself I speak; you cannot know
    Him whom I call in speaking such a one,
    For you beneath the earth lie buried low,
    Which he alone as living walks upon:''
    Jones Very (1831-1880), U.S. poet. Yourself (l. 1-4). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.
  • ''A word perhaps loud spoken you may get,
    Or hear our feet when heavily they tread;
    But he who speaks, or him who's spoken to,
    Must both remain as strangers still to you.''
    Jones Very (1831-1880), U.S. poet. Yourself (l. 11-14). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.
  • ''I see them,—crowd on crowd they walk the earth,
    Dry leafless trees no autumn wind laid bare;
    And in their nakedness find cause for mirth,
    And all unclad would winter's rudeness dare;''
    Jones Very (1831-1880), U.S. poet. The Dead (l. 1-4). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.
  • ''The hand and foot that stir not, they shall find
    Sooner than all the rightful place to go;''
    Jones Very (1831-1880), U.S. poet. The Hand and Foot (l. 1-2). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.
  • ''They borrow words for thoughts they cannot feel,
    That with a seeming heart their tongue may speak;
    And in their show of life more dead they live
    Than those that to the earth with many tears they give.''
    Jones Very (1831-1880), U.S. poet. The Dead (l. 11-14). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.

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The Fair Morning

The clear bright morning, with its scented air
And gaily waving flowers, is here again;
Man's heart is lifted with the voice of prayer,
And peace descends, as falls the gentle rain;
The tuneful birds, that all the night have slept,
Take up at dawn the evening's dying lay,
When sleep upon their eyelids gently crept
And stole with stealthy craft their song away.
High overhead the forest's swaying boughs

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