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C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.

Parnell

  • But now the clouds in airy tumult fly;
  • The sun, emerging, opes an azure sky;
  • A fresher green the smiling leaves display,
  • And glittering as they tremble, cheer the day.
  • Death’s but a path that must be trod,
  • If man would ever pass to God.
  • Let those love now who never loved before,
  • Let those that always loved now love the more.
  • No real happiness is found
  • In trailing purple o’er the ground.
  • Now sunk the sun; the closing hour of day
  • Came onward, mantled o’er with sober grey;
  • Nature in silence bid the world repose.
  • Remote from man, with God he passed the days,
  • Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.
  • The very thoughts of change I hate,
  • As much as of despair;
  • Nor ever covet to be great,
  • Unless it be for her.
  • Then in a kiss she breath’d her various arts,
  • Of trifling prettily with wounded hearts;
  • A mind for love, but still a changing mind,
  • The lisp affected, and the glance design’d;
  • The sweet confusing blush, the secret wink,
  • The gentle swimming walk, the courteous sink;
  • The stare for strangeness fit, for scorn the frown
  • For decent yielding, looks declining down;
  • The practis’d languish, where well-feign’d desire
  • Would own its melting in a mutual fire;
  • Gay smiles to comfort; April showers to move;
  • And all the nature, all the art of love.
  • Let time that makes you homely, make you sage.

    Solitude’s the nurse of woe.