|John Bartlett (18201905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.|
|Anna Letitia (Aikin) Barbauld. (17431825)|
| Man is the nobler growth our realms supply,|
And souls are ripened in our northern sky.
| The Invitation.|
| This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,|
And Wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.
| A Summers Evening Meditation.|
| It is to hope, though hope were lost. 1|
| Come here, Fond Youth.|
| Life! we ve been long together|
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
T is hard to part when friends are dear,
Perhaps t will cost a sigh, a tear;
Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time;
Say not Good night, but in some brighter clime
Bid me Good morning.
| So fades a summer cloud away;|
So sinks the gale when storms are oer;
So gently shuts the eye of day; 2
So dies a wave along the shore.
| The Death of the Virtuous.|
| Child of mortality, whence comest thou? Why is thy countenance sad, and why are thine eyes red with weeping?|
| Hymns in Prose. xiii.|