Quotes
Quotes about Day
You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;
To-morrow'll be the happiest time of all the glad New Year,--
Of all the glad New Year, mother, the maddest, merriest day;
For I 'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I 'm to be queen o' the May.
And o'er the hills, and far away
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
Beyond the night, across the day,
Thro' all the world she followed him.
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean.
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,--
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret.
Oh death in life, the days that are no more!
I follow up the quest
Despite of Day and Night and Death and Hell.
Blind and naked Ignorance
Delivers brawling judgments, unashamed,
On all things all day long.
I have had my day and my philosophies.
Whate'er thy joys, they vanish with the day:
Whate'er thy griefs, in sleep they fade away,
To sleep! to sleep!
Sleep, mournful heart, and let the past be past:
Sleep, happy soul, all life will sleep at last.
None can truly write his single day,
And none can write it for him upon earth.
What shall I do with all the days and hours
That must be counted ere I see thy face?
How shall I charm the interval that lowers
Between this time and that sweet time of grace?
Youth, with swift feet walks onward in the way;
The land of joy lies all before his eyes;
Age, stumbling, lingers slowly day by day,
Still looking back, for it behind him lies.
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?
Her suffering ended with the day,
Yet lived she at its close,
And breathed the long, long night away
In statue-like repose.
For lo! the days are hastening on,
By prophet-bards foretold,
When with the ever-circling years,
Comes round the age of gold;
When Peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling
And the whole world send back the song
Which now the angels sing.
A good book is the best of friends, the same to-day and for ever.
They sailed away for a year and a day
To the land where the bong-tree grows.
Was never evening yet
But seemed far beautifuller than its day.
Have you found your life distasteful?
My life did, and does, smack sweet.
Was your youth of pleasure wasteful?
Mine I saved and hold complete.
Do your joys with age diminish?
When mine fail me, I'll complain.
Must in death your daylight finish?
My sun sets to rise again.
? John Bartlett, compWhat are the wild waves saying,
Sister, the whole day long,
That ever amid our playing
I hear but their low, lone song?
Work, and thou wilt bless the day
Ere the toil be done;
They that work not, can not pray,
Can not feel the sun.
God is living, working still,
All things work and move;
Work, or lose the power to will,
Lose the power to love.
For right is right, since God is God,
And right the day must win;
To doubt would be disloyalty,
To falter would be sin.
Old Tubal Cain was a man of might
In the days when earth was young.
I slept, and dreamed that life was Beauty;
I woke, and found that life was Duty.
Was thy dream then a shadowy lie?
Toil on, poor heart, unceasingly;
And thou shalt find thy dream to be
A truth and noonday light to thee.
I asked of Echo 't other day
(Whose words are few and often funny),
What to a novice she could say
Of courtship, love, and matrimony.
Quoth Echo, plainly,--"Matter-o'-money."
