Quotes
Quotes about Years
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.
Beyond this vale of tears
There is a life above,
Unmeasured by the flight of years;
And all that life is love.
Night is the time to weep,
To wet with unseen tears
Those graves of memory where sleep
The joys of other years.
He holds him with his glittering eye,
And listens like a three years' child.
Ye mariners of England,
That guard our native seas;
Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze!
And thou hast walked about (how strange a story!)
In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago,
When the Memnonium was in all its glory.
When Time who steals our years away
Shall steal our pleasures too,
The mem'ry of the past will stay,
And half our joys renew.
Oft in the stilly night,
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood's years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone
Now dimmed and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken.
Take all the pleasures of all the spheres,
And multiply each through endless years,--
One minute of heaven is worth them all.
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
To sever for years.
Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.
Ah, happy years! once more who would not be a boy?
A thousand years scarce serve to form a state:
An hour may lay it in the dust.
He who grown aged in this world of woe,
In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life,
So that no wonder waits him.
Years steal
Fire from the mind as vigour from the limb,
And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
The world's great age begins anew,
The golden years return,
The earth doth like a snake renew
Her winter weeds outworn.
Truth crushed to earth shall rise again,--
The eternal years of God are hers;
But Error, wounded, writhes with pain,
And dies among his worshippers.
Ha! see where the wild-blazing Grog-shop appears,
As the red waves of wretchedness swell;
How it burns on the edge of tempestuous years--
The horrible Light-house of Hell!
Dame Fortune is a fickle gipsy,
And always blind, and often tipsy;
Sometimes for years and years together,
She 'll bless you with the sunniest weather,
Bestowing honour, pudding, pence,
You can't imagine why or whence;--
Then in a moment--Presto, pass!--
Your joys are withered like the grass;
We do not count a man's years until he has nothing else to count.
Two lives that once part are as ships that divide
When, moment on moment, there rushes between
The one and the other a sea;--
Ah, never can fall from the days that have been
A gleam on the years that shall be!
We have lived and loved together
Through many changing years;
We have shared each other's gladness,
And wept each other's tears.
Sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
Humanity with all its fears,
With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
Moons waxed and waned, the lilacs bloomed and died,
In the broad river ebbed and flowed the tide,
Ships went to sea, and ships came home from sea,
And the slow years sailed by and ceased to be.
Then here's to the oak, the brave old oak,
Who stands in his pride alone!
And still flourish he, a hale green tree,
When a hundred years are gone!
