John Townsend Trowbridge Famous Quotes
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We are two travelers, Roger and I. Roger's my dog-come here, you scamp! Jump for the gentleman-mind your eye! Over the table,-look out for the lamp! The rogue is growing a little old; Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, And slept out-doors when nights were cold, And ate and drank and starved together.
A flower more sacred than far-seen success Perfumes my solitary path; I find Sweet compensation in my humbleness, And reap the harvest of a quiet mind.
For me the diamond dawns are set In rings of beauty ...
The tears of the young who go their way, last a day; But the grief is long of the old who stay.
The speckled sky is dim with snow,
The light flakes falter and fall slow;
Athwart the hill-top, rapt and pale,
Silently drops a silvery veil; And all the valley is shut in
By flickering curtains gray and thin.
The birds can fly, an' why can't I? Must we give in, says he with a grin, That the bluebird an' phoebe are smarter 'n we be?
Our days, our deeds, all we achieve or are, Lay folded in our infancy; the things Of good or ill we choose while yet unborn.
Men are polished, through act and speech, Each by each, As pebbles are smoothed on the rolling beach.
Darius was clearly of the opinion
That the air is also man's dominion,
And that, with paddle or fins or pinion,
We soon or late
Shall navigate
The azure, as now we sail the sea.
Happiness, honor, and great estate,
For those who patiently work and wait.
Of nothing comes nothing: springs rise not above Their source in the far-hidden heart of the mountains: Whence then have descended the Wisdom and Love That in man leap to light in intelligent fountains?
I keep some portion of my early gleam; Brokenly bright, like moonbeams on a river, It lights my life, a far illusive dream, Moves as I move, and leads me on forever.
On turf and curb and bower-roof
The snow-storm spreads its ivory woof;
It paves with pearl the garden-walk;
And lovingly around the tatter'd stalk
And snivering stem its magic weaves
A mantle fair as lily-leaves.
If you will observe, it doesn't take A man of giant mould to make A giant shadow on the wall; And he who in our daily sight Seems but a figure mean and small, Outlined in Fame's illusive light, May stalk, a silhouette sublime, Across the canvas of his time.
Not in rewards, but in the strength to strive, the blessing lies.
With years a richer life begins, the spirit mellow: ripe age gives tones to violins, wine, and good fellows.