I die the king’s faithful servant, and God’s first.
Thomas More
All the Secrets of the Universe and Some Really Important Stuff Too!
Aphorisms, proverbs, wise sayings and other witty, pithy stuff
I die the king’s faithful servant, and God’s first.
Thomas More
That silence is one of the great arts of conversation is allowed by Cicero himself, who says, there is not only an art, but even an eloquence in it.
Hannah More
The sober comfort, all the peace which springs
From the large aggregate of little things ;
On these small cares of daughter, wife, or friend,
The almost sacred joys of home depend.
Hannah More
Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife,
Throughout the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name.
Thomas Osbert Mordaunt
Love Poems
And the best of all ways
To lengthen our days
Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!
Oh, call it by some better name,
For friendship sounds too cold.
Believe me, if all those endearing young charms
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,
Were to change by to-morrow and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy gifts fading away.
Thou wouldst still be adored as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will,
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart,
Would entwine itself verdantly still.
No, the heart that has truly lov’d never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close;
As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets
The same look which she turn’d when he rose.
Thomas Moore
Canadian Boats
Faintly as tolls the evening chime,
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time.
Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight’s past.
Thomas Moore
Poems on Age
I feel like one,
Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed!
Oft, in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber’s chain has bound me,
Fond Memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood’s years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone,
Now dimm’d and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken!
What though youth gave love and roses,
Age still leaves us friends and wine.
All that’s bright must fade,—
The brightest and the fleetest;
All that’s sweet was made,
But to be lost when sweetest.
Thomas Moore
Love, nursed among pleasures, is faithless as they,
But the love born of Sorrow, like Sorrow, is true.
Thomas Moore
Just as the mind the erring sense believes,
The erring mind, in turn, the sense deceives.
Thomas Moore
But there’s nothing half so sweet in life
As love’s young dream.
Thomas Moore