Quote

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
Protect
Soil
Defenders
Arms
Soldier
Foe
Friends
Deeds
Spoil
Read
Son
Deed
Peace
Destruction
Sons
Might
Praise
Toil
Would
Save
Soldiers
Honor
Traffic
Duly

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Hence, in these times, untouch'd the pages lie, And slumber out their immortality.
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And took for truth the test of ridicule.
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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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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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Blest be the gracious Power, who taught mankind To stamp a lasting image of the mind! Beasts may convey, and tuneful birds may sing, Their mutual feelings, in the opening spring But Man alone has skill and power to send The heart's warm dictates to the distant friend 'Tis his alone to please, instruct, advise Ages remote, and nations yet to rise.
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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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Temp'rate in every place--abroad, at home, Thence will applause, and hence will profit come And health from either--he in time prepares For sickness, age, and their attendant cares.
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In general satire, every man perceives A slight attack, yet neither fears nor grieves.
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Lawyers Are: By law's dark by-ways he has stored his mind with wicked knowledge on how to cheat mankind.
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Virtues neglected then, adored become, And graces slighted, blossom on the tomb.
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An infatuated man is not only foolish, but wild.
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I grant indeed that fields and flocks have charms, For him that gazes or for him that farms.
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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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Old Peter Grimes made fishing his employ His wife he cabined with him and his boy, And seemed that life laborious to enjoy.
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What is a church? Let Truth and reason speak, They would reply, The faithful, pure and meek, From Christian folds, the one selected race, Of all professions, and in every place.
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Through the sharp air a flaky torrent flies, Mocks the slow sight, and hides the gloomy skies The fleecy clouds their chilly bosoms bare, And shed their substance on the floating air.
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Experience finds few of the scenes that lively hope designs.
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Better to love amiss than nothing to have loved.
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The coward never on himself relies, But to an equal for assistance flies.
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