| C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917. | | | | Parnell |
| | | | But now the clouds in airy tumult fly; |
| The sun, emerging, opes an azure sky; |
| A fresher green the smiling leaves display, |
| And glittering as they tremble, cheer the day. |
| 1 |
| | Death’s but a path that must be trod, |
| If man would ever pass to God. |
| 2 |
| | Let those love now who never loved before, |
| Let those that always loved now love the more. |
| 3 |
| | No real happiness is found |
| In trailing purple o’er the ground. |
| 4 |
| | Now sunk the sun; the closing hour of day |
| Came onward, mantled o’er with sober grey; |
| Nature in silence bid the world repose. |
| 5 |
| | Remote from man, with God he passed the days, |
| Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise. |
| 6 |
| | The very thoughts of change I hate, |
| As much as of despair; |
| Nor ever covet to be great, |
| Unless it be for her. |
| 7 |
| | Then in a kiss she breath’d her various arts, |
| Of trifling prettily with wounded hearts; |
| A mind for love, but still a changing mind, |
| The lisp affected, and the glance design’d; |
| The sweet confusing blush, the secret wink, |
| The gentle swimming walk, the courteous sink; |
| The stare for strangeness fit, for scorn the frown |
| For decent yielding, looks declining down; |
| The practis’d languish, where well-feign’d desire |
| Would own its melting in a mutual fire; |
| Gay smiles to comfort; April showers to move; |
| And all the nature, all the art of love. |
| 8 |
| Let time that makes you homely, make you sage. | 9 |
| Solitude’s the nurse of woe. | 10 | | |
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