Top 15 Edmund Clarence Stedman Quotes

Give me to die unwitting of the day,
And stricken in Life's brave heat, with senses clear!

Crops failed; wealth took a flight; house, treasure, land, Slipped from my hold—thus plenty comes and goes.
One friend I had, but he too loosed his hand (Or was it I?) the year I met with Rose.

Where's he that died o' yesterday? What better chance hath he To clink the can and toss the pot When this night's junkets be? For the lad that died o' yesterday Is just as dead — ho! ho! — As the whoreson knave men laid away A thousand years ago.

Hopeless of all he dared to hope so long, The music born within him dies away; Even the song he loved becomes a pain, Full-freighted with a yearning all in vain.

Let the winds blow! a fiercer gale Is wild within me! what may quell That sullen tempest? I must sail Whither, O whither, who can tell!

I loved: and in the morning sky, A magic castle upward grew!

At last the god cometh! The air runs over with splendor; The fire leaps high on the altar; Melodious thunders shake the ground. Hark to the Delphic responses! Hark! it is the god!

I dare aver He is a brave discoverer
Of climes his elders do not know.
He has more learning than appears
On the scroll of twice three thousand years.

The year of jubilee has come; Gather the gifts of Earth with equal hand; Henceforth ye too may share the birthright soil, The corn, the wine, and all the harvest-home.

O, our feeble tests of greatness! Look for one so calm of soul As to take the even chalice of his life and drink the whole. Noble deeds are held in honor, but the wide world sorely needs Hearts of patience to unravel this, — the worth of common deeds.

In the lap of hoary Europe lie her children ill at rest, Reaching hands of supplication to their brethren of the West; Pale about the lifeless fountain of their ancient freedom, wait Till the angel move its waters and avenge their stricken state. Let me then, a new crusader, to the eastward set my face, Wake the fires of old tradition on each sacred altar-place, Till a trodden people rouse them, with a clamor as divine As the winds of autumn roaring through the clumps of forest-pine. I myself would seize their banner; they should follow where it led, To the triumph of the victors or the pallor of the dead.

O child! dear child! Above the clouds I lift my wing To hear the bells of Heaven ring; Some of their music, though my flights be wild, To Earth I bring; Then let me soar and sing!

What if there be a fated day When the Faery Isle shall pass away, And its beautiful groves and fountains seem The myths of a long, delicious dream! A century's joys shall first repay Our hearts, for the evil of that day; And the Elfin-King has sworn to wed A daughter of Earth, whose child shall be, By cross and water hallowe'd, From the fairies' doom forever free. What if there be a fated day! It is far away! it is far away! Maiden, fair Maiden, I, who sing Of this summer isle am the island King.

Yes, my Prince was such as they,
Part of gold, and part of clay,
⁠Though his metal shone as bright,
⁠And his dross was hid from sight.
He who brightest is, and best
Still may fear the secret test
⁠That shall try his heart aright.

The two, that day,
Lured by a falling water's sound, went deep
Beyond the sunlight, in the forest-keep.

Here from a range of wooded uplands leapt
⁠A mountain brook and far-off meadows sought;
Now under firs and tasselled chestnuts crept,
⁠Then on through jagged rocks a passage fought,
Until it clove this shadowy gorge and cool
In one white cataract, — with a dark, broad pool

Beneath, the home of mottled trout. One side
⁠Rose the cliff's hollowed height, and overhung
An open sward across that basin wide.
⁠The liberal sun through slanting larches flung
Rich spots of gold upon the tufted ground,
And the great royal forest gloomed around.