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The dandelions and buttercups gild all the lawn: the drowsy bee stumbles among the clover tops, and summer sweetens all to me.

James Russell Lowell

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James Russell Lowell
Age: 72 †
Born: 1819
Born: February 22
Died: 1891
Died: August 12
Diplomat
Essayist
Journalist
Literary Critic
Poet
Writer
Cambridge
Massachusetts
Lawns
Stumbles
July
Clover
Bees
Clovers
Summer
Buttercup
Among
Dandelions
Drowsy
Buttercups
Tops
Gild
Lawn
Sweetens

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Communism means barbarism.
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It was in making education not only common to all, but in some sense compulsory on all, that the destiny of the free republics of America was practically settled.
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Ye come and go incessant we remain Safe in the hallowed quiets of the past Be reverent, ye who flit and are forgot, Of faith so nobly realized as this.
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O visionary world, condition strange, Where naught abiding is but only change.
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Life may be given in many ways, and loyalty to truth be sealed as bravely in the closet as the field.
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Through aisles of long-drawn centuries my spirit walks in thought.
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Taste is the next gift to genius.
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The very gnarliest and hardest of hearts has some musical strings in it but they are tuned differently in every one of us.
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In the earliest ages science was poetry, as in the later poetry has become science.
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They are slaves who fear to speak, for the fallen and the weak.
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Analysis is carried into everything. Even Deity is subjected to chemical tests.
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Truth always has a bewitching savor of newness in it, and novelty at the first taste recalls that original sweetness to the tongue but alas for him who would make the one a substitute for the other.
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His heart kep' goin' pity-pat, But hern went pity-Zekle.
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What a man pays for bread and butter is worth its market value, and no more. What he pays for love's sake is gold indeed, which has a lure for angels' eyes, and rings well upon God's touchstone.
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Ah, in this world, where every guiding thread Ends suddenly in the one sure centre, death, The visionary hand of Might-have-been Alone can fill Desire's cup to the brim!
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But life is sweet, though all that makes it sweet. Lessen like sound of friends departing feet And death is beautiful as feet of friend. Coming with welcome at our journey's end.
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