True love is humble, thereby is it known; Girded for service, seeking not its own; Vaunts not itself, but speaks in self-dispraise.
ABRAHAM COLESWhen hands clasped hands, and lips to lips were pressed, And the heart’s secret was at once confessed?
More Abraham Coles Quotes
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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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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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Fling out, fling out, with cheer and shout, To all the winds of Our Country’s Banner!
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O, beautiful and grand, My own, my native land! Of thee I boast: Great empire of the west, The dearest and the best, Made up of all the rest, I love thee most.
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Eternity! How know we but we stand On the precipitous and crumbling verge Of Time e’en now, Eternity below?
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Much of our ignorance is of ourselves. Our eyes are full of dust. Prejudice blinds us.
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When hands clasped hands, and lips to lips were pressed, And the heart’s secret was at once confessed?
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With dazzling pomp descending angels sung Good will and peace to men, to God due praise, Who on the errand of salvation sent
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Words are freeborn, and not the vassals of the gruff tyrants of prose to do their bidding only. They have the same right to dance and sing as the dewdrops have to sparkle and the stars to shine.
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Death separates, but it also unites. It reunites whom it separates.
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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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Thee, Son Beloved! of plural Unity Essential part, made flesh that mad’st all worlds.
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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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Through the long lapse of ages, that so there might be An asylum for all in the Land of the Free.
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Poetry is unfallen speech. Paradise knew no other, for no other would suffice to answer the need of those ecstatic days of innocence.
ABRAHAM COLES






