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C.N. Douglas, comp.  Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical.  1917.
 
Ebenezer Elliott
 
        Again the violet of our early days
Drinks beauteous azure from the golden sun,
And kindles into fragrance at his blaze.
  1
        And here the sunflower of the spring
Burns bright in morning’s beam.
  2
        Burns o’er the plough sung sweet his woodnotes wild;
And richest Shakespeare was a poor man’s child.
  3
        God said—“Let there be light!”
Grim darkness felt His might,
      And fled away;
Then startled seas and mountains cold
Shone forth, all bright in blue and gold,
      And cried—“’Tis day! ’tis day!”
“Hail, holy light!” exclaim’d
The thunderous cloud that flam’d
      O’er daisies white;
And lo! the rose, in crimson dress’d,
Lean’d sweetly on the lily’s breast;
      And blushing murmur’d—“Light!”
  4
        If ’twere not for my cat and dog,
I think I could not live.
  5
        If e’er she knew an evil thought
  She spoke no evil word:
Peace to the gentle! She hath sought
  The bosom of her Lord.
  6
        Sleep! to the homeless, thou art home
  The friendless find in thee a friend;
And well is, wheresoe’er he roams,
  Who meets thee at his journey’s end.
  7
                    Things of to-day?
Deeds which are harvest for Eternity!
  8
        ’Tis toil’s reward, that sweetens industry,
As love inspires with strength the enraptur’d thrush.
  9
        What is a Communist? One who has yearnings
For equal division of unequal earnings.
  10
        Within the sun-lit forest,
  Our roof the bright blue sky,
Where fountains flow, and wild flowers blow,
  We lift our hearts on high.
  11
  One who has yearnings for equal division of unequal earnings. Idler or bungler, he is willing to fork out his penny and pocket your shilling.  12
  Prophets of fragrance, beauty, joy, and song.  13
  Sleep, to the homeless thou art home; the friendless find in thee a friend.  14
  Stem fate and time will have their victims; and the best die first, leaving the bad still strong, though past their prime.  15
  The quivering flesh, though torture-torn, may live, but souls, once deeply wounded, heal no more.  16
 
 
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