The dead have been awakened -- shall I sleep The world's at war with tyrants -- shall I crouch the harvest's ripe -- and shall I pause to reap I slumber not the thorn is in my couch Each day a trumpet soundeth in mine ear, its echo in my heart.
The dead have been awakened -- shall I sleep The world's at war with tyrants -- shall I crouch the harvest's ripe -- and shall I pause to reap I slumber not the thorn is in my couch Each day a trumpet soundeth in mine ear, its echo in my heart.
A bargain is in its very essence a hostile transaction do not all men try to abate the price of all they buy I contend that a bargain even between brethren is a declaration of war.
A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent
And yet a little tumult, now and then, is an agreeable quickener of sensation such as a revolution, a battle, or an adventure of any lively description.
The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.
Adversity is the first path to truth He who hath proved war, storm, or woman's rage, Whether his winters be eighteen or eighty, Has won the experience which is deemed so weighty.
I should like to know who has been carried off, except poor dear me -- I have been more ravished myself than anybody since the Trojan war.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories