|Grocott & Ward, comps. Grocotts Familiar Quotations, 6th ed. 189-?.|
|The busy shuttle comes and goes|
Across the rhymes, and deftly weaves
A tissue out of autumn leaves,
With here a thistle, there a rose.
T. B. Aldrich.Cloth of Gold, Proem.
|Poets are never young, in one sense. Their delicate ear hears the far-off whispers of eternity, which coarser souls must travel towards for scores of years before their dull sense is touched by them. A moments insight is sometimes worth a lifes experience.|
Holmes.The Professor at the Breakfast Table, Chap. X.
|Sing! there shall silence grow in earth and heaven,|
A silence of deep awe and wondering;
For, listening gladly, bend the angels, even
To hear a mortal angel sing.
| The Poet in his art|
Must imitate the whole, and say the smallest part.
William Wetmore Story.The Unexpressed.
|The Poets leaves are gathered one by one,|
In the slow process of the doubtful years.
Bayard Taylor.The Poets Journal, Third Evening.