Quotes

Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he That every man in arms should wish to be? It is the generous spirit, who, when brought Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought Upon the plan that pleased his boyish thought: Whose high endeavors are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright: Who, with a natural instinct to discern What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn; And in himself posses his own desire;

And mighty poets in their misery dead.

Great men have been among us; hands that penn'd And tongues that utter'd wisdom—better none:

Scorn not the sonnet; critic, you have frowned, Mindless of its just honors; with this key Shakespeare unlocked his heart;

I traveled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor, England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.

—I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds With coldness still returning; Alas! the gratitude of men Hath oftener left me mourning.

Where art thou, my beloved Son, Where art thou, worse to me than dead?

I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor, England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.

Not Chaos, not The darkest pit of lowest Erebus, Nor aught of blinder vacancy, scooped out By help of dreams can breed such fear and awe As fall upon us often when we look Into our Minds, into the Mind of Man.

Three years she grew in sun and shower, Then Nature said, 'A lovelier flower On earth was never sown; This Child I to myself will take;