Within a bony labrinthean cave, Reached by the pulse of the aerial wave, This sibyl, sweet, and Mystic Sense is found, Muse, that presides o’er all the Powers of Sound.
ABRAHAM COLESWith dazzling pomp descending angels sung Good will and peace to men, to God due praise, Who on the errand of salvation sent
More Abraham Coles Quotes
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The grave, where sets the orb of being, sets To rise, ascend, and culminate above Eternity’s horizon evermore.
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Where our fathers in fight, nobly strove for the Right, Struck down their fierce foemen or put them to flight
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Let us not doubt that God has a father’s pity towards us, and that in the removal of that which is dearest to us He is still loving and kind.
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Fling out, fling out, with cheer and shout, To all the winds of Our Country’s Banner!
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True love is humble, thereby is it known; Girded for service, seeking not its own; Vaunts not itself, but speaks in self-dispraise.
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We hail the return of the day of thy birth, Fair Columbia! washed by the waves of two oceans Where men from the farthest dominions of earth Rear altars to Freedom, and pay their devotions;
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O most illustrious of the days of time! Day full of joy and benison to earth When Thou wast born, sweet Babe of Bethlehem!
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Much of our ignorance is of ourselves. Our eyes are full of dust. Prejudice blinds us.
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Be every bar, and every star, Displayed in full and glorious manner! Blow, zephyrs, blow, keep the dear ensign flying! Blow, zephyrs, sweetly mournful, sighing, sighing, sighing!
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He dares confront the time, And speak the truth, and give the world no rest No kingly threat can cowardize his breath, He with majestic step goes forth to meet his death.
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The weary Body, longing for repose, On the gained level of the day’s ascent, Halts for the night and pitches there its tent.
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On eyes that watch as well as eyes that weep Descends the solemn mystery of sleep, Toiling and climbing to the very close
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None of the prophets old, So lofty or so bold! No form of danger shakes his dauntless breast; In loneliness sublime
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O loving woman, man’s fulfillment, sweet, Completing him not otherwise complete! How void and useless the sad remnant left Were he of her, his nobler part, bereft.
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Who has not seen that feeling born of flame Crimson the cheek at mention of a name?
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