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One Hundred Dollars will be paid to the persons who will answer the greatest number of Prize Quotations. For Rules and Regulations see another page of this magazine.
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, They stand upon the threshold of the new.
16. The Devil's most devilish when respectable.
17. All men are men-I would all minds were minds! Whereas 'tis just the many's mindless mass That most needs helping.
18. Were I in churchless solitude remaining,
Far from all voice of teachers and divines, My soul would find in flowers of God's ordaining Priests, sermons, shrines.
19. God will not love thee less because men love thee
I. 'Tis an old tale and often told.
Thrice blessed by the salutary change
He that runs may read.
5. Time? What is Time but a fiction vain To him that o'erhears the Eternal strain.
8. Was it a vision or a waking dream? Fled is the music:-do I wake or sleep ?
They who know the most
far-off divine event,
A touch, and bliss is turned to bale!
Life only keeps the sense of pain; The world holds naught save one white sail
Flying before the wind and rain.
Ye take no more the meaning than one takes
O happiness! our being's end and aim!
For thou must die.
15. Stronger by weakness, wiser men become, As they draw near to their eternal home.
Where are the visions of my infant nights,
And where the dreamy hopes of yester-morn?
Have I done anything since I was born
The old is fled;
The day of woe, the watchful night,
25. Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God!
Deceived through pain, well suffered, to the height
November days are bright and good;
Life's night rests feet which long have stood;
Some warm, soft bed, in field or wood,
Shrines to no code or creed confined-
32. The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year.
Amid the chords bewildered laid,
35. Her every tone is music's own, like those of morn
ing birds, And something more than melody dwells ever in
her words; The coinage of her heart are they, and from her
lips each flows As one may see the burdened bee forth issue from the rose.
Loved with a passion almost wild-
By fears oppressed, or hopes beguiled,
That all the essence of my soul and brain Dwelt in the vestal violet of her eyes, Calm as the ghost-glance of some dead Elaine.
38. The old faiths light their candles all about, But burly Truth comes by and blows them out.
In the spring,
Not to be broken by the night of Death. A soul beyond seems how less far apart, If daily named to God with fervid breath.
43. O life! O time! O days divine!
O dreams that keep the soul astir!
That which we call the fairest,
Is always rarest.
'Tis not for idle ease we pray,
QUOTATIONS ON POETRY.
When she went steaming, and from pulpy hills Have marked the spurting of their flamy crowns ?
JEAN INGELOW, Gladys and Her Island.
God is the PERFECT POET, Who in creation acts his own conceptions.
ROBERT BROWNING, Paracelsus.
We count For poets all who ever felt that such They were, and all who secretly have known That such they could not be; ay, moreover, all Who wind the robes of ideality About the bareness of their lives, and hang Comforting curtains, knit of fancy's yarn, Nightly betwixt them and the frosty world.
There be “subtle" and "sweet” that are bad ones
to beat, There are “lives unlovely,” and “souls astray”; There is much to be done yet with “moody” and
“meet," And "ghastly" and "grimly,” and “gaunt," and
grey”; We should ever be “blithesome" but never be
"gay,” And “splendid” is suited to “summer" and "sea''; "Consummate,” they say, is enjoying its day, “Intense” is the adjective dearest to me!
ANDREW LANG, Ballades.
Jewels five words long, That on the stretch'd forefinger of all Time Sparkle forever.
ALFRED TENNYSON, The Princess.
A verse may find him who a sermon flies,
GEORGE HERBERT, The Church Porch.
And once I knew a meditative rose
HENRY ABBEY, A Morning Pastoral.
It is a sacred privilege to lofty natures given,
earth and heaven, To own all gentle sympathies that bind the human
, Yet rise in pure and earnest aim, a brighter course
to trace. Creation teems with poetry — above, beneath,
aroundThought, fancy, feeling, lie enshrined in simplest
sight and sound; Mysterious meaning clothes whate'er we hear, or
touch, or view, And still the soul aspires to grasp the beautiful and
true! O Genius! thou hast high desires, and longings wild
and vain, Which never in this darkened world their bright
fulfillment gain! Mrs. JANE CROSS SIMPSON, The Longings of
A heritage to all?
The earth is given To us: we reign by virtue of a sense Which lets us hear the rhythm of that old verse, The ring of that old tune to which she spins. Humanity is given to us: we reign By virtue of a sense which lets us in To know its troubles ere they have been told, And take them home and lull them into rest With mournfulest music. Time is given to us, – Time past, time future. Who, good sooth, beside Have seen it well, have walked this empty world
All days are birthdays in the life,
The blessed life that poets live,
And are the gifts, they come to give.
That Time permits, is his who sings;
By secret help of Time's own wings. HELEN Hunt Jackson, To O. W. Holmes on his
He walks with God upon the hills!
And sees, each morn, the world arise New-bathed in light of Paradise.