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Most brilliant star upon the crest of Time Is England. England!

Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Crest
Brilliant
Star
England
Stars
Upon
Time

More quotes by Alexander Smith

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The sun was down, And all the west was paved with sullen fire. I cried, Behold! the barren beach of hell At ebb of tide.
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Pleasure has no logic it never treads in its own footsteps.
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A tender sadness drops upon my soul, like the soft twilight dropping on the world.
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I would rather be remembered by a song than by a victory.
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Books are a finer world within the world. (1863)
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Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.
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To have to die is a distinction of which no man is proud.
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Trifles make up the happiness or the misery of mortal life.
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In life there is nothing more unexpected and surprising than the arrivals and departures of pleasure. If we find it in one place today, it is vain to seek it there tomorrow. You can not lay a trap for it.
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In the entire circle of the year there are no days so delightful as those of a fine October.
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The greatness of an artist or a writer does not depend on what he has in common with other artists and writers, but on what he has peculiar to himself.
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In my garden I spend my days, in my library I spend my nights. My interests are divided between my geraniums and my books. With the flower I am in the present with the book I am in the past.
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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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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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The pleased sea on a white-breasted shore-- A shore that wears on her alluring brows Rare shells, far brought, the love-gifts of the sea, That blushed a tell-tale.
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We have two lives The soul of man is like the rolling world, One half in day, the other dipt in night The one has music and the flying cloud, The other, silence and the wakeful stars.
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A poem round and perfect as a star.
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The sea complains upon a thousand shores.
Alexander Smith
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Yet through all, we know this tangled skein is in the hands of One, Who sees the end from the beginning: He shall unravel all.
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In my garden, care stops at the gate and gazes at me wistfully through the bars.
Alexander Smith