Dreams are the bright creatures of poem and legend, who sport on earth in the night season, and melt away in the first beam of the sun, which lights grim care and stern reality on their daily pilgrimage through the world.
Dreams are the bright creatures of poem and legend, who sport on earth in the night season, and melt away in the first beam of the sun, which lights grim care and stern reality on their daily pilgrimage through the world.
Poetry's unnat'ral no man ever talked poetry 'cept a beadle on boxin' day.
She dotes on poetry, sir. She adores it I may say that her whole soul and mind are wound up, and entwined with it. She has produced some delightful pieces, herself, sir. You may have met with her Ode to an Expiring Frog,' sir.
I believe no satirist could breathe this air. If another Juvenal or Swift could rise up among us tomorrow, he would be hunted down. If you have any knowledge of our literature, and can give me the name of any man, American born and bred, who has anatomized our follies as a people, and not as this or that party and who has escaped the foulest and most brutal slander, the most inveterate hatred and intolerant pursuit it will be a strange name in my ears, believe me.
Literature should stand by itself, of itself, and for itself.
Professionally he declines and falls, and as a friend he drops into poetry.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories