John Scott Quotes

Where glossy pebbles pave the varied floors,
And rough flint-walls are deck'd with shells and ores,
And silvery pearls, spread o'er the roofs on high,
Glimmer like faint stars in a twilight sky.

I hate that drum’s discordant sound, Parading round, and round, and round: To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields, And lures from cities and from fields, To sell their liberty for charms Of tawdry lace, and glittering arms; And when Ambition’s voice commands,
To march, and fight, and fall, in foreign lands. I hate that drum’s discordant sound, Parading round, and round, and round: To me it talks of ravag’d plains, And burning towns, and ruin’d swains, And mangled limbs, and dying groans, And widows’ tears, and orphans’ moans; And all that Misery’s hand bestows,
To fill the catalogue of human woes.

There spread the wild rose, there the woodbine twin'd;
There stood green fern, there o'er the grassy ground
Sweet camomile and ale-hoof spread around;
And centaury red, and yellow cinquefoil grew,
And scarlet campion and cyanus blue;
And tufted thyme, and marjoram's purple bloom,
And ruddy strawberries yielding rich perfume.