Loading...
Search, filter, and discover the perfect illustration for your sermon
Free to browse · Sign up free to unlock most illustrations · Premium ($9.95/mo) for the full library of 50,000+ illustrations
THERE'S something in a stupid ass, And something in a heavy dunce; But never since I went to school I heard or saw so damned a fool As William Wordsworth is for once.
No spring nor summer Beauty hath such grace As I have seen in one autumnall face. Young beauties force our love, and that's a rape, This doth but counsel, yet you cannot 'scape. If 'twere a shame to love, here...
But do thy worst to steal thyself away, For term of life thou art assured mine; And life no longer than thy love will stay, For it depends upon that love of thine.
THE GLOOMY night is gath’ring fast, Loud roars the wild, inconstant blast, Yon murky cloud is foul with rain, I see it driving o’er the plain; The hunter now has left the moor.
Why is it said thou canst not live In a youthful breast and fair, Since thou eternal life canst give, Canst bloom for ever there?
Take this kiss upon the brow!
NO Spartan tube, no Attic shell, No lyre Æolian I awake; ’Tis liberty’s bold note I swell, Thy harp, Columbia, let me take!
When the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight; Ere the evening lamps are lighted, And, like phantoms grim and tall, Shadows from the fitful...
The holly bush, a sober lump of green, Shines through the leafless shrubs all brown and grey, And smiles at winter be it eer so keen With all the leafy luxury of May.
Is it the Eternal Triune, is it He Who dares arrest the wheels of destiny And plunge me in the lowest Hell of Hells? Will not the lightning's blast destroy my frame? Will not steel drink the blood-life where it swells?
The Trees like Tassels -- hit -- and swung -- There seemed to rise a Tune From Miniature Creatures Accompanying the Sun -- Far Psalteries...
UNFOLDED out of the folds of the woman, man comes unfolded, and is always to come unfolded; Unfolded only out of the superbest woman of the earth, is to come the superbest man of the earth; Unfolded out of the...
Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead, And her soul early into heaven ravished, Wholly on heavenly things my mind is set.
Since our Country, our God--Oh, my Sire! Demand that thy Daughter expire; Since thy triumph was bought by thy vow-- Strike the bosom that's bared for thee now!
XIX The soul's Rialto hath its merchandise; I barter curl for curl upon that mart, And from my poet's forehead to my heart Receive this lock which outweighs argosies,— As purply black, as erst to Pindar's eyes The dim purpureal...
Yet, my pretty sportive friend, Little is't to such an end That I praise thy rareness! Other dogs may be thy peers Haply in these drooping ears, And this glossy fairness.
The Soul has Bandaged moments -- When too appalled to stir -- She feels some ghastly Fright come up And stop to look at her...
Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest Now is the time that face should form another; Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. For where is she so...
Here's my case. Of old I used to love him. This same unseen friend, before I knew: Dream there was none like him, none above him,-- Wake to hope and trust my dream was true. Loved I not his letters full of beauty?
They that have power to hurt, and will do none, That do not do the thing they most do show, Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow; They rightly do inherit heaven's graces, And...
FAREWELL to the Highlands, farewell to the North, The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth; Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.
Little trotty wagtail he went in the rain, And tittering, tottering sideways he neer got straight again, He stooped to get a worm, and looked...
All the night in woe Lyca's parents go Over valleys deep, While the deserts weep. Tired and woe-begone, Hoarse with making moan, Arm in arm, seven days They traced the desert ways. Seven nights they sleep Among shadows deep, And...
How much, egregious Moore, are we Deceived by shows and forms! Whate'er we think, whate'er we see, All humankind are worms. Man is a very worm by birth, Vile reptile, weak and vain! A while he crawls upon the earth, Then shrinks to earth again.