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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.
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
May
Pass
Sweeter
Spring
Slight
Flower
Thirst
Scene
Scenes
Full
Delicate
Hours
Flowers
Comes
Leaves
Lovelier
Away
Fingers
Footed
More quotes by Nathaniel Parker Willis
Flirtation is a circulating library, in which we seldom ask twice for the same volume.
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The soul of man createth its own destiny.
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How like a mounting devil in the heart rules the unreined ambition.
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Temptation hath a music for all ears.
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Some noble spirits mistake despair for content.
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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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Blessed are the joymakers.
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There is to me a daintiness about early flowers that touches me like poetry. They blow out with such a simple loveliness among the common herbs of pastures, and breathe their lives so unobtrusively, like hearts whose beatings are too gentle for the world.
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It is godlike to unloose the spirit, and forget yourself in thought.
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Like Melrose Abbey, large cities should especially be viewed by moonlight.
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Vulgarity is more obvious in satin than in homespun.
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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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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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Maturity is most rapid in the low latitudes, where pineapples and women most do thrive.
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Nature has thrown a veil of modest beauty over maidenhood and moss-roses.
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Of dead kingdoms I recall the soul, sitting amid their ruins
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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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The taste forever refines in the study of women.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
There is no divining-rod whose dip shall tell us at twenty what we shall most relish at thirty.
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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.
Nathaniel Parker Willis