Through the long lapse of ages, that so there might be An asylum for all in the Land of the Free.
ABRAHAM COLESBe 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!
More Abraham Coles Quotes
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Much of our ignorance is of ourselves. Our eyes are full of dust. Prejudice blinds us.
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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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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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The power to bind and loose to Truth is given: The mouth that speaks it is the mouth of Heaven
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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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Who has not seen that feeling born of flame Crimson the cheek at mention of a name?
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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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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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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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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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Thee, Son Beloved! of plural Unity Essential part, made flesh that mad’st all worlds.
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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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Fling out, fling out, with cheer and shout, To all the winds of Our Country’s Banner!
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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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The weary Body, longing for repose, On the gained level of the day’s ascent, Halts for the night and pitches there its tent.
ABRAHAM COLES