| |
| | ————amid life’s quests |
| That seems but worthy one—to do men good. |
| 1 |
| | Ask not of me, love, what is love? |
| Ask what is good of God above; |
| Ask of the great sun what is light; |
| Ask what is darkness of the night; |
| Ask sin of what may be forgiven; |
| Ask what is happiness of heaven; |
| Ask what is folly of the crowd; |
| Ask what is fashion of the shroud; |
| Ask what is sweetness of thy kiss; |
| Ask of thyself what beauty is. |
| 2 |
| | Dear Lord, our God and Saviour! for Thy gifts |
| The world were poor in thanks, though every soul |
| Were to do nought but breathe them, every blade |
| Of grass, and every atomie of earth |
| To utter it like dew. |
| 3 |
| | Death is the universal salt of states; |
| Blood is the base of all things—law and war. |
| 4 |
| | Dew-drops, Nature’s tears, which she |
| Sheds in her own breast for the fair which die. |
| The sun insists on gladness; but at night, |
| When he is gone, poor Nature loves to weep. |
| 5 |
| | Dreams are rudiments |
| Of the great state to come. We dream what is |
| About to happen. |
| 6 |
| | England! my country, great and free! |
| Heart of the world, I leap to thee! |
| 7 |
| | Evil is limited. One cannot form |
| A scheme for universal evil. |
| 8 |
| | Fine thoughts are wealth, for the right use of which |
| Men are and ought to be accountable,— |
| If not to Thee, to those they influence. |
| 9 |
| | For ivy climbs the crumbling hall |
| To decorate decay. |
| 10 |
| | Her cheek had the pale pearly pink |
| Of sea shells, the world’s sweetest tint, as though |
| She lived, one-half might deem, on robes sopp’d |
| In pearly dew. |
| 11 |
| | I am tired of looking on what is, |
| One might as well see beauty never more, |
| As look upon it with an empty eye. |
| I would this world were over. I am tired. |
| 12 |
| | I love night more than day—she is so lovely; |
| But I love night the most because she brings |
| My love to me in dreams which scarcely lie. |
| 13 |
| | I run the gauntlet of a file of doubts, |
| Each one of which down hurls me to the ground. |
| 14 |
| | It is sad |
| To see the light of beauty wane away, |
| Know eyes are dimming, bosoms shrivelling, feet |
| Losing their springs, and limbs their lily roundness; |
| But it is worse to feel the heart-spring gone, |
| To lose hope, care not for the coming thing, |
| And feel all things go to decay within us. |
| 15 |
| | Joys |
| Are bubble-like—what makes them, |
| Bursts them too. |
| 16 |
| | Kindness is wisdom. There is none in life |
| But needs it and may learn. |
| 17 |
| | Leave the poor |
| Some time for self-improvement. Let them not |
| Be forced to grind the bones out of their arms |
| For bread, but have some space to think and feel |
| Like moral and immortal creatures. |
| 18 |
| | Let each man think himself an act of God, |
| His mind a thought, his life a breath of God. |
| 19 |
| | Life’s but a means unto an end, that end, |
| Beginning, mean, and end to all things—God. |
| 20 |
| |
|
|
| |
| | Look on the bee upon the wing ’mong flowers; |
| How brave, how bright his life! then mark him hiv’d, |
| Cramp’d, cringing in his self-built, social cell, |
| Thus it is in the world-hive; most where men |
| Lie deep in cities as in drifts. |
| 21 |
| | Naught but God |
| Can satisfy the soul. |
| 22 |
| | Not a single path |
| Of thought I tread, but that it leads to God. |
| 23 |
| | Poetry is itself a thing of God; |
| He made his prophets poets; and the more |
| We feel of poesie do we become |
| Like God in love and power,—undermakers. |
| 24 |
| | Poets are all who love,—who feel great truths, |
| And tell them. |
| 25 |
| | See the gold sunshine patching, |
| And streaming and streaking across |
| The gray-green oaks; and catching, |
| By its soft brown beard, the moss. |
| 26 |
| | She spake, |
| And his love-wilder’d and idolatrous soul |
| Clung to the airy music of her words, |
| Like a bird on a bough, high swaying in the wind. |
| 27 |
| | Soul of the world, divine Necessity, |
| Servant of God, and master of all things. |
| 28 |
| | Star unto star speaks light, and world to world |
| Repeats the passage of the universe |
| To God; the name of Christ—the one great word |
| Well worth all languages in earth or heaven. |
| 29 |
| | The goodness of the heart is shown in deeds |
| Of peacefulness and kindness. Hand and heart |
| Are one thing with the good, as thou should’st be. |
| Do my words trouble thee? then treasure them, |
| Pain overgot gives peace, as death doth Heaven. |
| All things that speak of Heaven speak of peace. |
| 30 |
| | The ground |
| Of all great thoughts is sadness. |
| 31 |
| | The poet’s pen is the true divining rod |
| Which trembles towards the inner founts of feeling; |
| Bringing to light and use, else hid from all, |
| The many sweet clear sources which we have |
| Of good and beauty in our own deep bosoms; |
| And marks the variations of all mind |
| As does the needle. |
| 32 |
| | The sun, centre and sire of light, |
| The keystone of the world-built arch of heaven. |
| 33 |
| | The wind breathes not, and the wave |
| Walks softly as above a grave. |
| 34 |
| | The world is a great poem, and the world’s |
| The words it is writ in, and we souls the thoughts. |
| 35 |
| | There are whole veins of diamonds in thine eyes, |
| Might furnish crowns for all the Queens of earth. |
| 36 |
| | Thou art a woman, |
| And that is saying the best and worst of thee. |
| 37 |
| | Thou wilt not chronicle our sand-like sins; |
| For sin is small, and mean, and barren. Good |
| Only is great, and generous, and fruitful. |
| Number the mountains, not the sands, O God! |
| 38 |
| | Thou wind? |
| Which art the unseen similitude of God |
| The Spirit, His most meet and mightiest sign. |
| 39 |
| | Thy great name |
| In all its awful brevity, hath nought |
| Unholy breeding it, but doth bless |
| Rather the tongue that uses it; for me, |
| I ask no higher office than to fling |
| My spirit at Thy feet, and cry Thy name, |
| God! through eternity. |
| 40 |
| | Thy talk is the sweet extract of all speech, |
| And holds mine ear in blissful slavery. |
| 41 |
| | True faith nor biddeth nor abideth form, |
| The bended knee, the eye uplift, is all |
| Which men need render; all which God can bear. |
| What to the faith are forms? A passing speck, |
| A crow upon the sky. |
| 42 |
| | Walk |
| Boldly and wisely in that light thou hast— |
| There is a hand above will help thee on. |
| 43 |
| | We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; |
| In feelings, not in figures on a dial. |
| We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives |
| Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. |
| 44 |
| | What are ye orbs? |
| The words of God? the Scriptures of the skies? |
| 45 |
| | When I forget that the stars shine in air— |
| When I forget that beauty is in stars— |
| When I forget that love with beauty is— |
| Will I forget thee: till then all things else. |
| 46 |
| | When night hath set her silver lamp on high, |
| Then is the time for study. |
| 47 |
| | Who never doubted never half believed, |
| Where doubt there truth is—’tis her shadow. |
| 48 |
| | Why Mammon sits before a million hearths |
| Where God is bolted out from every house. |
| 49 |
| A curse is like a cloud—it passes. | 50 |
| All are of the race of God, and have in themselves good. | 51 |
| All things that speak of heaven speak of peace. | 52 |
| America,—half-brother of the world! | 53 |
| Application is the price to be paid for mental acquisition. To have the harvest, we must sow the seed. | 54 |
| Blessings star forth forever; but a curse is like a cloud, it passes. | 55 |
| Blest is he whose heart is the home of the great dead and their great thoughts. | 56 |
| Could I love less, I should be happier now. | 57 |
| Death is another life. | 58 |
| Death is the gate of life. | 59 |
| Death, thou art infinite; it is life is little. | 60 |
| Doubt is the shadow of truth. | 61 |
| Earth’s liquid jewelry, wrought of air. | 62 |
| Error is worse than ignorance. | 63 |
| Every believer is God’s miracle. | 64 |
| Evil and good are God’s right hand and left. | 65 |
| Evil then results from imperfection. | 66 |
| Faith is a higher facility than reason. | 67 |
| Fulfil thy fate! Be—do—bear—and thank God. | 68 |
| God’s love seemed lost upon him. | 69 |
| Great thoughts, like great deeds, need no trumpet. | 70 |
| Grief hallows hearts, even while it ages heads. | 71 |
| He hath no power who hath not power to use. | 72 |
| He is a fool who is not for love and beauty. I speak unto the young, for I am of them and always shall be. | 73 |
| He who has most of heart, knows most of sorrow. | 74 |
| Hell is more bearable than nothingness. | 75 |
| Hell is the wrath of God—His hate of sin. | 76 |
| Her step is music, and her voice is song. | 77 |
| How slight a chance may raise or sink a soul! | 78 |
| I cannot be content with less than heaven. | 79 |
| I have a heart with room for every joy. | 80 |
| If all were rich, gold would be penniless. | 81 |
| Imagination is the air of mind. | 82 |
| It Is fine to stand upon some lofty mountain thought, and feel the spirit stretch into a view. | 83 |
| It is no great misfortune to oblige ungrateful people, but an unsupportable one to be forced to be under an obligation to a scoundrel. | 84 |
| Let us think less of men and more of God. | 85 |
| Life hath more awe than death. | 86 |
| Life is as serious a thing as death. | 87 |
| Life is less than nothing without love. | 88 |
| Long, glorious locks, which drop upon thy cheek like gold-hued cloud-flakes on the rosy morn. | 89 |
| Love is the art of hearts, and heart of arts. | 90 |
| Lowliness is the basis of every virtue; and he who goes the lowest builds the safest. | 91 |
| Man is one; and he hath one great heart. It is thus we feel, with a gigantic throb athwart the sea, each other’s rights and wrongs; thus are we men. | 92 |
| Men might be better if we better deemed of them. | 93 |
| Mind and night will meet, though in silence, like forbidden lovers. | 94 |
| My favored temple is an humble heart. | 95 |
| Nature means Necessity. | 96 |
| Necessity, like electricity, is in ourselves and all things, and no more without us than within us. | 97 |
| Never respect men merely for their riches, but rather for their philanthropy; we do not value the sun for its height, but for its use. | 98 |
| Night brings out stars as sorrow shows us truths. | 99 |
| None but the brave and beautiful can love. | 100 |
| Nothing comes to us too soon but sorrow. | 101 |
| O, there is naught on earth worth being known but God and our own souls! | 102 |
| Obey thy genius, for a minister it is unto the throne of fate. Draw to thy soul, and centralize the rays which are around of the Divinity. | 103 |
| Oh, could we lift the future’s sable shroud. | 104 |
| One thought settles a life, an immortality. | 105 |
| Prayer is the spirit speaking truth to Truth. | 106 |
| Remember that thy heart will shed its pleasures as thine eye its tears, and both leave loathsome furrows. | 107 |
| Sorrow is a stone that crushes a single bearer to the ground, while two are able to carry it with ease. | 108 |
| Stars which stand as thick as dew-drops on the field of heaven. | 109 |
| Surely the stars are images of love. | 110 |
| The best enjoyment is half disappointment to what we mean, or would have, in this world. | 111 |
| The deathbed of a day, how beautiful. | 112 |
| The firefly only shines when on the wing; so is it with the mind; when once we rest, we darken. | 113 |
| The first and worst of all frauds is to cheat one’s self. All sin is easy after that. | 114 |
| The fringe of the garment of the Lord. | 115 |
| The ground of all great thoughts is sadness. | 116 |
| The heart is its own fate. | 117 |
| The long days are no happier than the short ones. | 118 |
| The name of Christ—the one great word well worth all languages in earth or heaven. | 119 |
| The strongest passion which I have is honor. | 120 |
| The sun, God’s crest upon His azure shield, the heavens. | 121 |
| The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love. | 122 |
| The temples perish, but the God still lives. | 123 |
| The truth of truths is love. | 124 |
| The value of a thought cannot be told. | 125 |
| The worst men often give the best advice. | 126 |
| They who forgive most shall be most forgiven. | 127 |
| ’Tis man himself makes his own god and his own hell. | 128 |
| ’Tis of the tears which stars weep, sweet with joy. | 129 |
| We live not to ourselves, our work is life. | 130 |
| We love and live in power; it is the spirit’s end. Mind must subdue; to conquer is its life. | 131 |
| We must not pluck death from the Maker’s hand. | 132 |
| What men call accident is God’s own part. | 133 |
| When pride thaws, look for floods. | 134 |
| Where imperfection ceaseth, heaven begins. | 135 |
| Who can mistake great thoughts? They seize upon the mind; arrest and search and shake it; bow the tall soul as by wind; rush over it like rivers over reeds. | 136 |
| Words are the motes of thought, and nothing more. | 137 |
| Worthy books are not companions, they are solitudes; we lose ourselves in them, and all our cares. | 138 |
| Youth might be wise; we suffer less from pains than pleasures. | 139 |
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