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It is the month of June, The month of leaves and roses, When pleasant sights salute the eyes, And pleasant scents the noses.
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
Spring
Scent
Months
Noses
Eyes
Month
Eye
Pleasant
Scents
Leaves
Sights
Rose
Salute
Summer
Roses
Sight
June
More quotes by Nathaniel Parker Willis
Nature has thrown a veil of modest beauty over maidenhood and moss-roses.
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The soul of man createth its own destiny.
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The taste forever refines in the study of women.
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If e'er I win a parting token, 'Tis something that has lost its power-- A chain that has been used and broken, A ruin'd glove, a faded flower Something that makes my pleasure less, Something that means--forgetfulness.
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Gentleness is the great point to be obtained in the study of manners.
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The lily and the rose in her fair face striving for precedence.
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There is a gentle element, and man may breathe it with a calm, unruffled soul, and drink its living waters, till his heart is pure and this is human happiness.
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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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A lamp is lit in woman's eye that souls, else lost on earth, remember angels by.
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How like a mounting devil in the heart rules the unreined ambition.
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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!
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The rain is playing its soft pleasant tune fitfully on the skylight, and the shade of the fast-flying clouds across my book passed with delicate change.
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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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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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It is godlike to unloose the spirit, and forget yourself in thought.
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Of dead kingdoms I recall the soul, sitting amid their ruins
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T is the work of many a dark hour, many a prayer, to bring the heart back from an infant gone.
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Blessed are the joymakers.
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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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Maturity is most rapid in the low latitudes, where pineapples and women most do thrive.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
