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Soldiers in arms! Defenders of our soil! Who from destruction save us who from spoil Protect the sons of peace, who traffic or who toil Would I could duly praise you, that each deed Your foe's might honor, and your friends might read.

George Crabbe

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George Crabbe
Age: 79 †
Born: 1754
Born: December 24
Died: 1834
Died: February 3
Entomologist
Medicine
Poet
Surgeon
Writer
Aldeburgh
Suffolk
Peace
Destruction
Sons
Might
Praise
Toil
Would
Save
Soldiers
Honor
Traffic
Duly
Protect
Soil
Defenders
Arms
Soldier
Foe
Friends
Deeds
Spoil
Read
Son
Deed

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With eye upraised his master's look to scan, The joy, the solace, and the aid of man: The rich man's guardian and the poor man's friend, The only creature faithful to the end.
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Life is not measured by the time we live.
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Deceivers are the most dangerous members of society. They trifle with the best affections of our nature, and violate the most sacred obligations.
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See Time has touched me gently in his race, And left no odious furrows in my face.
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Beauties, when disposed to sleep, Should from the eye of keen inspector keep: The lovely nymph who would her swain surprise, May close her mouth, but not conceal her eyes Sleep from the fairest face some beauty takes, And all the homely features homelier makes.
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But jest apart--what virtue canst thou trace In that broad trim that hides thy sober face? Does that long-skirted drab, that over-nice And formal clothing, prove a scorn of vice? Then for thine accent--what in sound can be So void of grace as dull monotony?
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Oh how the passions, insolent and strong, Bear our weak minds their rapid course along Make us the madness of their will obey Then die and leave us to our griefs as prey!
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Against her foes Religion well defends Her sacred truths, but often fears her friends.
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Learning is better worth than houses or land.
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The gentle fair on nervous tea relies, Whilst gay good-nature sparkles in her eyes An inoffensive scandal fluttering round, Too rough to tickle, and too light to wound.
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Anger makes us strong, Blind and impatient, And it leads us wrong The strength is quickly lost We feel the error long.
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In general satire, every man perceives A slight attack, yet neither fears nor grieves.
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To the house of a friend if you're pleased to retire, You must all things admit, you must all things admire You must pay with observance the price of your treat, You must eat what is praised, and must praise what you eat.
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Arrogance is the act of the great presumption that of the little.
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Better to love amiss than nothing to have loved.
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Hence, in these times, untouch'd the pages lie, And slumber out their immortality.
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The coward never on himself relies, But to an equal for assistance flies.
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With awe, around these silent walks I tread These are the lasting mansions of the dead.
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Her air, her manners, all who saw admir'd Courteous though coy, and gentle though retir'd The joy of youth and health her eyes display'd, And ease of heart her every look convey'd.
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To show the world what long experience gains, requires not courage, though it calls for pains but at life's outset to inform mankind is a bold effort of a valiant mind.
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