John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.
Page 829
| William Ernest Henley. (1849–1903) (continued) |
| 8041 |
| It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul. 1 |
| To R. T. H. B. |
| 8042 |
| Life is (I think) a blunder and a shame. |
| In Hospital. |
| 8043 |
| Far in the stillness a cat Languishes loudly. |
| In Hospital. |
| 8044 |
| From the winter’s gray despair, From the summer’s golden languor, Death, the lover of Life, Frees us for ever. |
| In Hospital. |
| Robert Louis Stevenson. (1850–1894) |
| 8045 |
| Wealth I ask not, hope nor love, Nor a friend to know me; All I ask: the heaven above And the road below me. |
| The Vagabond. |
| 8046 |
| In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light. In summer, quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day. |
| Bed in Summer. |
| 8047 |
| The pleasant Land of Counterpane. |
| The Land of Counterpane. |
| 8048 |
| Youth now flees on feathered foot. |
| To Will H. Low. |
| 8049 |
| The world is so full of a number of things, I ’m sure we should all be as happy as kings. |
| Couplet. |
| Note 1. Arise, O Soul, and gird thee up anew, Though the black camel Death kneel at thy gate; No beggar thou that thou for alms shouldst sue: Be the proud captain still of thine own fate. James Benjamin Kenyon. [back] |