Frederick George Scott Quotes

So often have I met death face to face,
His eyes now wear the welcome of a friend's.

The immortal spirit hath no bars To circumscribe its dwelling-place;
My soul hath pastured with the stars Upon the meadow-lands of space.

Oh, linger, little river! Your banks are all so fair,
Each morning is a hymn of praise, Each evening is a prayer.
All day the sunbeams glitter On your shallows and your bars, And at night the dear God stills you
With the music of the stars.

Like some grey warder who, with mien sedate And smile of welcome, greets the throngs who pour Between the portals of a wide-thrown door, stands guardian at our water gate,
And watches from her battlemented state The great ships passing with their living store Of human myriads coming to our shore,
Expectant, joyous, resolute, elate.

Right hath the sweeter grace,
But Wrong the prettier face.

for me will be five hundred years of catching trains and two thousand years of remembering names.

Clay was I; the potter Thou
With Thy thumb-nail smooth'dst my brow,
Rolltdst the spittle-moistened sands
Into limbs between Thy hands.
[...]
Strong Thou mad'st me, till at length
All my weakness was my strength;
Tortured am I, blind and wrecked,
For a faulty architect.

Sweet house of God, sweet earth, so full of pleasure, I enter at thy gates in storm or calm;
And every sunbeam is a joy or pleasure, And every cloud a solace and a balm.

One doom waits all — art, speech, law, gods, and men, Forests and mountains, stars and shining sun, —
The hand that made them shall unmake again, I curse them and they wither one by one.Waste altars, tombs, dead cities where men trod, Shall roll through space upon the darkened globe,
Till I myself be overthrown, and God Cast off creation like an outworn robe.

I saw Time in his workshop carving faces; Scattered around his tools lay, blunting griefs, Sharp cares that cut out deeply in reliefs
Of light and shade: sorrows that smooth the traces
Of what were smiles.

Oh, curses on you hand and head, Like the rains in this wild weather
The guilt of blood is swift and dread,
Your sister's face is cold and dead,
Ye may not part whom God would wed And love hath knit together.

They saw the stars in heaven hung, They saw the great Sea's birth,
They know the ancient pain that wrung The entrails of the Earth.

It sleeps among the thousand hills Where no man ever trod,
And only nature's music fills The silences of God.

In lonely gorge and over hill and plain, I sowed the giant forests of the world;
The great earth like a human heart in pain Has quivered with the meteors I have hurled.

Give me splendour in my death —
Not this sickening dungeon breath,
Creeping down my blood like slime,
Till it wastes me in my prime.Give me back for one blind hour,
Half my former rage and power,
And some giant crisis send,
Meet to prove a hero's end.