Happy he With such a mother! faith in womankind Tennyson: The Princess. A woman's love Is mighty, but a mother's heart is weak, Lowell: Legend of Brittany. Youth fades; love droops; the leaves of friendship fall: A mother's secret hope outlives them all. Music; see Bells. Holmes: A Mother's Secret. The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, Shakespeare: Merchant of Venice. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Shakespeare: Merchant of Venice. When such music sweet Their hearts and ears did greet, As never was by mortal finger strook, Divinely warbled voice Answering the stringèd noise, As all their souls in blissful rapture took: The air, such pleasure loth to lose, With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close. For if such holy song Enwrap our fancy long, Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold. Milton: Hymn on the Morning of Christ's Nativity. When Music, heavenly maid, was young, Collins: The Passions. Music resembles poetry; in each Are nameless graces which no methods teach, Pope: Essay on Criticism. Here is the finger of God, a flash of the will that Existent behind all laws, that made them and, lo, they are! And I know not if, save in this, such gift be allowed to man, That out of three sounds he frame, not a fourth sound, but a star. Browning: Abt Vogler. I do but sing because I must, Tennyson: In Memoriam. Short swallow-flights of song, that dip Their wings. Tennyson: In Memoriam. There is sweet music here that softer falls Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes; Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies. The gift of Song was chiefly lent To give consoling music for the joys We lack, and not for those which we possess. Bayard Taylor: Poet's Journal. The silent organ loudest chants The master's requiem. Emerson: Dirge. God sent his Singers upon earth Longfellow: The Singers. The half of music, I have heard men say, Is to have grieved. Stephen Phillips: Marpessa. Sidney Lanier: To Beethoven. -Fits life to love like rhyme to rhyme. Sing as you will, O singers all, Who sing because you want to sing! Sing any song and anyhow, But Sing! Sing! Sing! Nature; see Deity. James Whitcomb Riley. In contemplation of created things Milton: Paradise Lost. Nature, despairing e'er to make the like, Brake suddenly the mold in which 'twas fashion'd. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. Shakespeare: Troilus and Cressida. Nature ever yields reward To him who seeks, and loves her best. Bryan Waller Procter: Above and Below. Man's rich with little, were his judgment true; Young: Love of Fame. Nature! great parent! whose unceasing hand How mighty, how majestic are thy works! Thomson: Seasons. Winter. First follow nature, and your judgment frame Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth, Thou from whose immortal bosom, Gods, and men, and beasts have birth, Leaf and blade, and bud and blossom, Breathe thine influence most divine. Shelley: Song of Prosperpine. O solemn-beating heart Of nature! I have knowledge that thou art Elizabeth B. Browning: A Sea-Side Walk. To him who in the love of Nature holds Bryant: Thanatopsis. |