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In days of yore, the poet’s pen |
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From wing of bird was plunder’d, |
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Perhaps of goose, but now and then, |
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From Jove’s own eagle sunder’d. |
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But now, metallic pens disclose |
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Alone the poet’s numbers; |
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In iron inspiration glows, |
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Or with the poet slumbers. |
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1 |
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“Man wants but little here below |
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Nor wants that little long,” |
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’Tis not with me exactly so; |
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But ’tis so in the song. |
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My wants are many, and, if told, |
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Would muster many a score; |
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And were each wish a mint of gold, |
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I still should long for more. |
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2 |
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Life is probation: mortal man was made |
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To solve the solemn problem—right or wrong. |
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3 |
| A man’s diary is a record in youth of his sentiments, in middle age of his actions, in old age of his reflections. |
4 |
| All that I am, my mother made me. |
5 |
| Among the sentiments of most powerful operation upon the human heart, and most highly honorable to the human character, are those of veneration for our forefathers, and of love for our posterity. |
6 |
| Every temptation is an opportunity of our getting nearer to God. |
7 |
| Fame! that common crier. |
8 |
| In charity to all mankind, bearing no malice or ill-will to any human being, and even compassionating those who hold in bondage their fellow-men, not knowing what they do. |
9 |
| It was reserved for the first settlers of New England to perform achievements equally arduous, to trample down obstructions equally formidable, to dispel dangers equally terrific, under the single inspiration of conscience. |
10 |
| Life is a problem; mortal man was made to solve the solemn problem, right or wrong. |
11 |
| The freedom of the press should be inviolate. |
12 |
| The revolutions of time furnish no previous example of a nation shooting up to maturity and expanding into greatness with the rapidity which has characterized the growth of the American people. In the luxuriance of youth, and in the vigor of manhood, it is pleasing and instructive to look backwards upon the helpless days of infancy; but in the continual and essential changes of a growing subject the transactions of that early period would soon be obliterated from the memory but for some periodical call of attention, to aid the silent records of the historian. Such celebrations arouse and gratify the kindliest emotions of the bosom. They are faithful pledges of the respect we bear to the memory of our ancestors and of the tenderness with which we cherish the rising generation. They introduce the sages and heroes of ages past to the notice and emulation of succeeding times; they are at once testimonials of our gratitude, and schools of virtue to our children. |
13 |
| Think of your forefathers! Think of your posterity! |
14 |
| This is the last of earth! I am content. |
15 |
