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Some day the soft Ideal that we wooed confronts us fiercely, foe-beset, pursued, and cries reproachful: Was it then my praise, and not myself was loved? Prove now thy truth I claim of thee the promise of thy youth.

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
Cry
Cries
Praise
Pursued
Promise
Soft
Prove
Claim
Wooed
Youth
Ideal
Beset
Loved
Thee
Confronts
Truth
Claims
Fiercely
Love
Ideals
Foe

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Wut 's words to them whose faith an' truth On war's red techstone rang true metal Who ventered life an' love an' youth For the gret prize o' death in battle?
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Not what we give, but what we share, for the gift without the giver is bare.
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Fate loves the fearless.
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I love her with a love as still As a broad river's peaceful might, Which by high tower and lowly mill, Goes wandering at its own will, And yet does ever flow aright.
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Let us be of good cheer, however, remembering that the misfortunes hardest to bear are those which never come.
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There is surely room for yet another schoolmaster when a score of seers advertise themselves in Boston newspapers.
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'T is heaven alone that is given away 'T is only God may be had for the asking.
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Men! whose boast it is that ye Come of fathers brave and free, If there breathe on earth a slave, Are ye truly free and brave?
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It is curious how tyrannical the habit of reading is...
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Earth's noblest thing,-a woman perfected.
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They have rights who dare maintain them.
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The victory's in believing.
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The one thing finished in this hasty world.
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Life is a sheet of paper white / Whereon each one of us may write / His word or two, and then comes night.
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Whoever can endure unmixed delight, whoever can tolerate music and painting and poetry all in one, whoever wishes to be rid of thought and to let the busy anvils of the brain be silent for a time, let him read in the Faery Queen.
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The sentimentalist does not think of what he does so much as of what the world will think of what he does.
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In life's small things be resolute and great To keep thy muscle trained Know'st thou when Fate Thy measure takes, or when she'll say to thee, I find thee worthy do this deed for me?
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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.
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He gives us the very quintessence of perception,-the clearly crystalized precipitation of all that is most precious in the ferment of impression after the impertinent and obtrusive particulars have evaporated from the memory.
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The ash her purple drops forgivingly And sadly, breaking not the general hush The maple swamps glow like a sunset sea, Each leaf a ripple with its separate flush All round the wood's edge creeps the skirting blaze, Ere the rain falls, the cautious farmer burns his brush.
James Russell Lowell