Frost is the greatest artist in our clime - he paints in nature and describes in rime.
Frost is the greatest artist in our clime - he paints in nature and describes in rime.
Tis melancholy, and a fearful sign Of human frailty, folly, also crime, That love and marriage rarely can combine, Although they both are born in the same clime Marriage from love, like vinegar from wine - A sad, sour, sober beverage - by time Is s
Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime, nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
Life weve been long together, Through pleasant and through cloudy weather Tis hard to part when friends are dear, Perhaps twill cost a sigh, a tear Then steal away, give little warning Choose thine own time Say not Good-night but in some brighter clime Bid me Good-morning. (Anna Letitia
Old age comes on apace to ravage all the clime.
These people being of a sharp and acute intellect, and gifted with a rich and powerful understanding, excel in whatever studies they pursue, and are more quick and cunning than the other inhabitants of a western clime.
You think they are crusaders sent From some infernal clime, To pluck the eyes of sentiment And dock the tail of Rhyme, To crack the voice of Melody And break the legs of Time.
In every race, in every nation, and in every clime in every period of history there is always an eager-eyed group of youthful patriots who seriously set themselves to right the wrongs done to their race or nation or . . . art or self-expression.
To make a happy fire-side clime To weans and wife, That's the true pathos and sublime Of human life.
In every age and clime we see Two of a trade can never agree.
Something in me is lost, forever lost,
Some vital thing has gone out of my heart,
And I must walk the way of life a ghost
Among the sons of earth, a thing apart;
For I was born, far from my native clime,
Under the white man's menace, out of time.
Frigid and sweet Her parting Face --
Frigid and fleet my Feet --
Alien and vain whatever Clime
Acrid whatever Fate.
Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime.
With thee all tales are sweet each clime has charms earth sea alike our world within our arms.
In every age,
In ev'ry clime ador'd,
By saint, by savage, and by sage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!
Old England is our home, and Englishmen are we Our tongue is known in every clime, our flag in every sea.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories