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The inward sighs of humble penitence Rise to the ear of Heaven, when peal'd hymns Are scatter'd with the sounds of common air.

Joanna Baillie

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Joanna Baillie
Age: 88 †
Born: 1762
Born: September 11
Died: 1851
Died: February 23
Playwright
Poet
Tragedy Writer
Writer
Joanna Baillie
Air
Sighs
Heaven
Hymns
Common
Sigh
Sound
Inward
Sounds
Rise
Peal
Humble
Penitence
Ears
Scatter

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There is a sight all hearts beguiling-- A youthful mother to her infant smiling, Who with spread arms and dancing feet, A cooing voice, returns its answer sweet.
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Stand there, damn'd meddling villain, and be silent For if thou utt'rest but a single word, A cough or hem, to cross me in my speech, I'll send thy cursed spirit from the earth, To bellow with the damn'd!
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I wish I were with some of the wild people that run in the woods, and know nothing about accomplishments!
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Pride is a fault that great men blush not to own: it is the ennobled offspring of self-love though, it must be confessed, grave and pompous vanity, Iike a fat plebeian in a rove of office, does very often assume its name.
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The plainest case in many words entangling.
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I am as one Who doth attempt some lofty mountain's height, And having gained what to the upcast eye The summit's point appear'd, astonished sees Its cloudy top, majestic and enlarged, Towering aloft, as distant as before.
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But dreams full oft are found of real events The form and shadows.
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A good man's prayers will from the deepest dungeon climb heaven's height, and bring a blessing down.
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But woman's grief is like a summer storm, Short as it violent is.
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Heaven often smites in mercy, even when the blow is severest.
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My day is closed! the gloom of night is come! a hopeless darkness settles over my fate.
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I have seen the day, when, if a man made himself ridiculous, the world would laugh at him. But now, everything that is mean, disgusting, and absurd, pleases them but so much the better!
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Tis ever thus: indulgence spoils the base Raising up pride, and lawless turbulence, Like noxious vapors from the fulsome marsh When morning shines upon it.
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Men's actions to futurity appear but as the events to which they are conjoined do give them consequence.
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A willing heart adds feather to the heel.
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Ah! happy is the man whose early lot Hath made him master of a furnish'd cot Who trains the vine that round his window grows, And after setting sun his garden hoes Whose wattled pails his own enclosure shield, Who toils not daily in another's field.
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Half-uttered praise is to the curious mind, as to the eye half-veiled beauty is, more precious than the whole.
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A woman is seldom roused to great and courageous exertion but when something most dear to her is in immediate danger.
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The bliss even of a moment still is bliss.
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O lovely Sisters! is it true That they are all inspired by you, And write by inward magic charm'd, And high enthusiasm warm'd?
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