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We bury love Forgetfulness grows over it like grass: That is a thing to weep for, not the dead.

Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Bury
Weep
Grass
Dead
Grows
Thing
Love
Forgetful
Like
Forgetfulness

More quotes by Alexander Smith

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God has thickly strewn infinity with grandeur.
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Vanity in its idler moments is benevolent, is as willing to give pleasure as to take it, and accepts as sufficient reward for its services a kind word or an approving smile.
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Thoughts must come naturally, like wild-flowers they cannot be forced in a hot-bed, even although aided by the leaf-mould of your past.
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My heart like moon-charmed waters, all unrest.
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It is a characteristic of pleasure that we can never recognize it to be pleasure till after it is gone.
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A brave soul is a thing which all things serve.
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It is the sternest philosophy, but on the whole the truest, that, in the wide arena of the world, failure and success are not accidents, as we so frequently suppose, but the strictest justice.
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There is no ghost so difficult to lay as the ghost of an injury.
Alexander Smith
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In winter, when the dismal rain Comes down in slanting lines, And Wind, that grand old harper, smote His thunder-harp of pines.
Alexander Smith
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Trifles make up the happiness or the misery of mortal life.
Alexander Smith
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Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.
Alexander Smith
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How beautiful the yesterday that stood Over me like a rainbow! I am alone, The past is past. I see the future stretch All dark and barren as a rainy sea.
Alexander Smith
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In my garden, care stops at the gate and gazes at me wistfully through the bars.
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The truly great rest in the knowledge of their own deserts, nor seek the conformation of the world.
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The saddest thing that befalls a soul is when it loses faith in god and woman.
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I have learned to prize the quiet, lightning deed, not the applauding thunder at its heels that men call fame.
Alexander Smith
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Pride's chickens have bonny feathers, but they are an expensive brood to rear. They eat up everything, and are always lean when brought to market.
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Eternity doth wear upon her face the veil of time. They only see the veil, and thus they know not what they stand so near!
Alexander Smith
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There is a certain even-handed justice in Time and for what he takes away he gives us something in return. He robs us of elasticity of limb and spirit, and in its place he brings tranquility and repose—the mild autumnal weather of the soul.
Alexander Smith
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Most brilliant star upon the crest of Time Is England. England!
Alexander Smith