Quotes
Quotes - Holmes
Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high,
And many an eye has danced to see
That banner in the sky.
Nail to the mast her holy flag,
Set every threadbare sail,
And give her to the god of storms,
The lightning and the gale!
The mossy marbles rest
On the lips that he has prest
In their bloom;
And the names he loved to hear
Have been carved for many a year
On the tomb.
I know it is a sin
For me to sit and grin
At him here;
But the old three-cornered hat,
And the breeches, and all that,
Are so queer!
Thou say'st an undisputed thing
In such a solemn way.
And silence, like a poultice, comes
To heal the blows of sound.
You think they are crusaders sent
From some infernal clime,
To pluck the eyes of sentiment
And dock the tail of Rhyme,
To crack the voice of Melody
And break the legs of Time.
And since, I never dare to write
As funny as I can.
Little I ask; my wants are few,
I only want a hut of stone,
(A very plain brownstone will do,)
That I may call my own.
When the last reader reads no more.
The freeman casting with unpurchased hand
The vote that shakes the turrets of the land.
And when you stick on conversation's burrs,
Don't strew your pathway with those dreadful urs.
Wake in our breast the living fires,
The holy faith that warmed our sires;
Thy hand hath made our nation free;
To die for her is serving Thee.
Thine eye was on the censer,
And not the hand that bore it.
Where go the poet's lines?
Answer, ye evening tapers!
Ye auburn locks, ye golden curls,
Speak from your folded papers!
A few can touch the magic string,
And noisy Fame is proud to win them;
Alas for those that never sing,
But die with all their music in them!
O hearts that break and give no sign
Save whitening lip and fading tresses!
Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,
As the swift seasons roll!
Leave thy low-vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
Till thou at length art free,
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!
One flag, one land, one heart, one hand,
One Nation evermore!
His home! the Western giant smiles,
And twirls the spotty globe to find it;
This little speck, the British Isles?
'T is but a freckle,--never mind it.
But Memory blushes at the sneer,
And Honor turns with frown defiant,
And Freedom, leaning on her spear,
Laughs louder than the laughing giant.
You hear that boy laughing?--you think he's all fun;
But the angels laugh, too, at the good he has done;
The children laugh loud as they troop to his call,
And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all.
Good to the heels the well-worn slipper feels
When the tired player shuffles off the buskin;
A page of Hood may do a fellow good
After a scolding from Carlyle or Ruskin.
Lean, hungry, savage anti-everythings.
Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay,
That was built in such a logical way
It ran a hundred years to a day?
