Quote

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.

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
Soul
Upon
Painter
Pilgrim
Water
Wild
Amid
Living
Dust
Recall
Speak
Tongue
Recalls
Art
Travel
Sculpture
Sandal
Stills
Sitting
Waters
Sandals
America
Dead
Kingdoms
Shrines
Still
Beauty
Ruins
Innumerable

More quotes by Nathaniel Parker Willis

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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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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
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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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It is godlike to unloose the spirit, and forget yourself in thought.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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Flirtation is a circulating library, in which we seldom ask twice for the same volume.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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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.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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Some noble spirits mistake despair for content.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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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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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.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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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.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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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.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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I knelt, and with the fervor of a lip unused to the cool breath of reason, told my love.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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Nature has thrown a veil of modest beauty over maidenhood and moss-roses.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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A lamp is lit in woman's eye that souls, else lost on earth, remember angels by.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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The sin forgiven by Christ in HeavenBy man is cursed alway.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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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?
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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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.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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Of dead kingdoms I recall the soul, sitting amid their ruins
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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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.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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There is no divining-rod whose dip shall tell us at twenty what we shall most relish at thirty.
Nathaniel Parker Willis