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The children of the poor are so apt to look as if the rich would have been over-blest with such! Alas for the angel capabilities, interrupted so soon with care, and with after life so sadly unfulfilled.
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
Sadly
Care
Interrupted
Look
Alas
Looks
Capability
Children
Angel
Would
Soon
Blest
Life
Unfulfilled
Rich
Capabilities
Poor
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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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Vulgarity is more obvious in satin than in homespun.
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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'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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Like Melrose Abbey, large cities should especially be viewed by moonlight.
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The soul of man createth its own destiny.
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The expressive word quiet defines the dress, manners, bow, and even physiognomy of every true denizen of St. James and Bond street.
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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.
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The Spring is here--the delicate footed May, With its slight fingers full of leaves and flowers, And with it comes a thirst to be away. In lovelier scenes to pass these sweeter hours.
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The lily and the rose in her fair face striving for precedence.
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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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Nature has thrown a veil of modest beauty over maidenhood and moss-roses.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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.
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Of dead kingdoms I recall the soul, sitting amid their ruins
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Blessed are the joymakers.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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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Youth is beautiful its friendship is precious the intercourse with it is a purifying release from the worn and stained harness of older life.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
Ah me! the world is full of meetings such as this,--a thrill, a voiceless challenge and reply, and sudden partings after!
Nathaniel Parker Willis
The taste forever refines in the study of women.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
The perfect world, by Adam trod, Was the first temple--built by God-- His fiat laid the corner stone, And heaved its pillars, one by one.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
