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On turf and curb and bower-roof The snow-storm spreads its ivory woof It paves with pearl the garden-walk And lovingly around the tatter'd stalk And snivering stem its magic weaves A mantle fair as lily-leaves.
John Townsend Trowbridge
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John Townsend Trowbridge
Age: 88 †
Born: 1827
Born: September 18
Died: 1916
Died: February 12
Author
Writer
Ogden
New York
John T. Trowbridge
J. T. Trowbridge
Paul Creyton
Garden
Stem
Lily
Paves
Magic
Roof
Spreads
Bower
Walk
Snow
Ivory
Woof
Walks
Storm
Stalking
Stalk
Around
Leaves
Curb
Weaves
Fairs
Pearl
Mantle
Fair
Lilies
Turf
Spread
Pearls
Lovingly
More quotes by John Townsend Trowbridge
Not in rewards, but in the strength to strive, the blessing lies.
John Townsend Trowbridge
The tears of the young who go their way, last a day But the grief is long of the old who stay.
John Townsend Trowbridge
I keep some portion of my early gleam Brokenly bright, like moonbeams on a river, It lights my life, a far illusive dream, Moves as I move, and leads me on forever.
John Townsend Trowbridge
For me the diamond dawns are set In rings of beauty.
John Townsend Trowbridge
Darius was clearly of the opinion That the air is also man's dominion, And that, with paddle or fins or pinion, We soon or late Shall navigate The azure, as now we sail the sea.
John Townsend Trowbridge
If you will observe, it doesn't take A man of giant mould to make A giant shadow on the wall And he who in our daily sight Seems but a figure mean and small, Outlined in Fame's illusive light, May stalk, a silhouette sublime, Across the canvas of his time.
John Townsend Trowbridge
The birds can fly, An' why can't I?
John Townsend Trowbridge
We are two travelers, Roger and I. Roger's my dog-come here, you scamp! Jump for the gentleman-mind your eye! Over the table,-look out for the lamp! The rogue is growing a little old Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, And slept out-doors when nights were cold, And ate and drank and starved together.
John Townsend Trowbridge
Our days, our deeds, all we achieve or are, Lay folded in our infancy the things Of good or ill we choose while yet unborn.
John Townsend Trowbridge
Of nothing comes nothing: springs rise not above Their source in the far-hidden heart of the mountains: Whence then have descended the Wisdom and Love That in man leap to light in intelligent fountains?
John Townsend Trowbridge
The speckled sky is dim with snow, The light flakes falter and fall slow Athwart the hill-top, rapt and pale, Silently drops a silvery veil And all the valley is shut in By flickering curtains gray and thin.
John Townsend Trowbridge
The birds can fly, an' why can't I? Must we give in, says he, with a grin, 'T the blackbird an' phoebe are smarter 'n we be? Jest fold our hands, an' see the swaller An' blackbird an' catbird beat us holler? ... Jest show me that! er prove 't that bat Hez got more brains thans's in my hat, An' I'll back down, an' not till then!
John Townsend Trowbridge
The birds can fly, an' why can't I? Must we give in, says he with a grin, That the bluebird an' phoebe are smarter 'n we be?
John Townsend Trowbridge