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O blest one hour like this! to rise And see grief's shadows backward roll While bursts on unaccustomed eyes The glad Aurora of the soul.

Dinah Maria Murlock Craik

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Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
Soul
Rise
Like
Glad
Unaccustomed
Grief
Aurora
Hour
Blest
Shadow
Bursts
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Backward
Hours
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Eye
Roll

More quotes by Dinah Maria Murlock Craik

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O the green things growing, the green things growing, The faint sweet smell of the green things growing! I should like to live, whether I smile or grieve, Just to watch the happy life of my green things growing.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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No virtue ever was founded on a lie. The truth, then, at all risks and costs - the truth from the beginning. Make a clean breast to whomsoever you need to make it, and then - face the world.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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Happiness! Can any human being undertake to define it for another?
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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Money is meant not for hoarding, but for using the aim of life should be to use it in the right way - to spend as much as we can lawfully spend, both upon ourselves and others. And sometimes it is better to do this in our lifetime, when we can see that it is well spent, than to leave it to the chance spending of those that come after us.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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Society, in the aggregate, is no fool. It is astonishing what an amount of eccentricity it will stand from anybody who takes the bull by the horns, too fearless or too indifferent to think of consequences.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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What small account The All-living seems to take of this thin flame Which we call life. He sends a moment's blast Out of war's nostrils, and a myriad Of these our puny tapers are blown out Forever.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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It is the Christmas time: And up and down 'twixt heaven and earth, In glorious grief and solemn mirth, The shining angels climb.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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Autumn Into earth's lap does throw Brown apples gay in a game of play, As the equinoctials blow.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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Autumn to winter, winter into spring, Spring into summer, summer into fall,-- So rolls the changing year, and so we change Motion so swift, we know not that we move.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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The wonder is not that some married people are less happy than they hoped to be, but that any married people, out of the honeymoon, or even in it, are ever happy at all.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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Loud wind, strong wind, sweeping o'er the mountains, Fresh wind, free wind, blowing from the sea, Pour forth thy vials like streams from airy mountains, Draughts of life to me.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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Queens you must always be: queens to your lovers queens to your husbands and your sons, queens of higher mystery to the world beyond. . . . But alas, you are too often idle and careless queens, grasping at majesty in the least things, while you abdicate it in the greatest.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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There can be - there ought to be - no medium course a love-affair is either sober earnest or contemptible folly, if not wickedness: to gossip about it is, in the first instance, intrusive, unkind, or dangerous in the second, simply silly.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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according to the old joke, married people are often like little boys bathing, who cry with chattering teeth to the boys on the shore, 'Do come in, it's so warm' - it is not always warm.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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Keep what is worth keeping and with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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A true test of friendship, to sit or walk with a friend for an hour in perfect silence , without wearying of one another's company.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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Now, I have nothing to say against uncles in general. They are usually very excellent people, and very convenient to little boys and girls.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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Those whose own light is quenched are often the light-bringers.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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It is not the smallest use to try to make people good, unless you try at the same time - and they feel that you are trying - to make them happy. And you rarely can make another happy, unless you are happy yourself.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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As we sail through life towards death, Bound unto the same port--heaven,-- Friend, what years could us divide?
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik