Quotes
Quotes about Pen
I give thee sixpence! I will see thee damned first.
Hail, Columbia! happy land!
Hail, ye heroes! heaven-born band!
Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause,
Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause,
And when the storm of war was gone,
Enjoyed the peace your valor won.
Let independence be our boast,
Ever mindful what it cost;
Ever grateful for the prize,
Let its altar reach the skies!
As if the man had fixed his face,
In many a solitary place,
Against the wind and open sky!
To be a Prodigal's favourite,--then, worse truth,
A Miser's pensioner,--behold our lot!
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours.
The monumental pomp of age
Was with this goodly personage;
A stature undepressed in size,
Unbent, which rather seemed to rise
In open victory o'er the weight
Of seventy years, to loftier height.
This dull product of a scoffer's pen.
One in whom persuasion and belief
Had ripened into faith, and faith become
A passionate intuition.
Elysian beauty, melancholy grace,
Brought from a pensive though a happy place.
The feather, whence the pen
Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men,
Dropped from an angel's wing.
O woman! in our hours of ease
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,
And variable as the shade
By the light quivering aspen made;
When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou!
On his bold visage middle age
Had slightly press'd its signet sage,
Yet had not quench'd the open truth
And fiery vehemence of youth:
Forward and frolic glee was there,
The will to do, the soul to dare.
Here in the body pent,
Absent from Him I roam,
Yet nightly pitch my moving tent
A day's march nearer home.
Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade,
Death came with friendly care;
The opening bud to heaven conveyed,
And bade it blossom there.
The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence.
In the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery column,
In the pentameter aye falling in melody back.
There shall he love when genial morn appears,
Like pensive Beauty smiling in her tears.
The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory or the grave!
Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave,
And charge with all thy chivalry!
But the trail of the serpent is over them all.
We wish that this column, rising towards heaven among the pointed spires of so many temples dedicated to God, may contribute also to produce in all minds a pious feeling of dependence and gratitude. We wish, finally, that the last object to the sight of him who leaves his native shore, and the first to gladden his who revisits it, may be something which shall remind him of the liberty and the glory of his country. Let it rise! let it rise, till it meet the sun in his coming; let the earliest light of the morning gild it, and the parting day linger and play on its summit!
It is my living sentiment, and by the blessing of God it shall be my dying sentiment,--Independence now and Independence forever.
Labour in this country is independent and proud. It has not to ask the patronage of capital, but capital solicits the aid of labor.
I shall defer my visit to Faneuil Hall, the cradle of American liberty, until its doors shall fly open on golden hinges to lovers of Union as well as lovers of liberty.
With spots of sunny openings, and with nooks
To lie and read in, sloping into brooks.
The sea! the sea! the open sea!
The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
