Mine be a cot beside the hill A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear A willowy brook that turns a mill, With many a fall, shall linger near.
Mine be a cot beside the hill A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear A willowy brook that turns a mill, With many a fall, shall linger near.
To vanish in the chinks that Time has made.
Sweet Memory wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail.
To know her was to love her.
The good are better made by ill, As odours crushed are sweeter still.
Fireside happiness, to hours of ease Blest with that charm, the certainty to please.
When a new book is published, read an old one.
Go you may call it madness, folly You shall not chase my gloom away There 's such a charm in melancholy I would not if I could be gay.
Think nothing done while aught remains to do.
Ward has no heart, they say, but I deny it He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it.
I lived to write, and wrote to live.
We love music for the buried hopes, the garnered memories, the tender feelings it can summon at a touch.
It doesn't much signify whom one marries, for one is sure to find next morning that it was someone else.
She was good as she was fair, Nonenone on earth above her As pure in thought as angels are To know her was to love her.
Then never less alone than when alone.
A guardian angel o'er his life presiding, Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing.
That very law which moulds a tear, And bids it trickle from the source, That law preserves the earth a sphere, And guides the planets in their course.
Those that he loved so long and sees no more, Loved and still loves,not dead, but gone before, He gathers round him.
The soul of music slumbers in the shell Till waked and kindled by the master's spell And feeling hearts, touch them but rightly, pour A thousand melodies unheard before.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories