Quote

Your love in a cottage is hungry, Your vine is a nest for flies- Your milkmaid shocks the Graces, And simplicity talks of pies! You lie down to your shady slumber And wake with a bug in your ear, And your damsel that walks in the morning Is shod like a mountaineer.

Nathaniel Parker Willis

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Nathaniel Parker Willis
Age: 61 †
Born: 1806
Born: January 20
Died: 1867
Died: January 20
Author
Journalist
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Portland
Maine
Nathanael Parker Willis
Love
Simplicity
Vines
Pies
Life
Wake
Nest
Shocks
Like
Hungry
Nests
Cottage
Ears
Pie
Vine
Walks
Bugs
Shady
Grace
Flies
Cottages
Mountaineer
Morning
Talks
Graces
Shod
Lying
Shock
Slumber
Damsel

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Ah me! the world is full of meetings such as this,--a thrill, a voiceless challenge and reply, and sudden partings after!
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Gentleness is the great point to be obtained in the study of manners.
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A lamp is lit in woman's eye that souls, else lost on earth, remember angels by.
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One lamp — thy mother’s love — amid the stars Shall lift its pure flame changeless, and before The throne of God, burn through eternity - Holy — as it was lit and lent thee here.
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The dust is old upon my sandal-shoon, And still I am a pilgrim I have roved From wild America to Bosphor's waters, And worshipp'd at innumerable shrines Of beauty and the painter's art, to me, And sculpture, speak as with a living tongue, And of dead kingdoms, I recall the soul, Sitting amid their ruins.
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Youth is beautiful its friendship is precious the intercourse with it is a purifying release from the worn and stained harness of older life.
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One gets, sensitive about losing mornings after getting a little used to them with living in a country. Each one of these endlessly varied daybreaks is an opera but once performed.
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I knelt, and with the fervor of a lip unused to the cool breath of reason, told my love.
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Temptation hath a music for all ears.
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I'm weary of my lonely but And of its blasted tree, The very lake is like my lot, So silent constantly-- I've liv'd amid the forest gloom Until I almost fear-- When will the thrilling voices come My spirit thirsts to hear?
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The night is made for tenderness,--so still that the low whisper, scarcely audible, is heard like music,--and so deeply pure that the fond thought is chastened as it springs and on the lip made holy.
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Gratitude is not only the memory but the homage of the heart- rendered to God for his goodness.
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Blessed are the joymakers.
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The smallest pebble in the well of truth has its peculiar meaning, and will stand when man's best monuments have passed away.
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How like a mounting devil in the heart rules the unreined ambition.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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Flirtation is a circulating library, in which we seldom ask twice for the same volume.
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Some noble spirits mistake despair for content.
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Nature's noblemen are everywhere,--in town and out of town, gloved and rough-handed, rich and poor. Prejudice against a lord, because he is a lord, is losing the chance of finding a good fellow, as much as prejudice against a ploughman because he is a ploughman.
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I love to go and mingle with the young In the gay festal room--when every heart Is beating faster than the merry tune, And their blue eyes are restless, and their lips Parted with eager joy, and their round cheeks Flush'd with the beautiful motion of the dance.
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How beautiful it is for a man to die Upon the walls of Zion! to be called Like a watch-worn and weary sentinel, To put his armour off, and rest in heaven!
Nathaniel Parker Willis