Martin Farquhar Tupper Quotes

Hush,—for the halo of calmness is spreading Over my spirit as mild as a dove; Hush,—for the angel of comfort is shedding Over my body his vial of love; Hush,—for new slumbers are over me stealing, Thus would I court them again and again, Hush,—for my heart is intoxicate,—reeling In the swift waltz of my beautiful brain!

O fair, false city, thou gay and gilded harlot! Wo for thy wanton heart, wo for thy wicked hardness! Wo unto thee, that the lightsomeness of life, beneath Italian suns, Should meet the solemnity of death, in a sepulchre so foul and fearful!

Who can wrestle against Sleep? — Yet is that giant very gentleness.

There is a limit to enjoyment, though the sources of wealth be boundless And the choicest pleasures of life lie within the ring of moderation.

Error is a hardy plant; it flourisheth in every soil; In the heart of the wise and good, alike with the wicked and foolish; For there is no error so crooked, but it hath in it some lines of truth; Nor is any poison so deadly, that it serveth not some wholesome use.

A good book is the best of friends, the same today and for ever.

The dews of Hermon rest upon thee now, Fair saint and martyr! and yet once again Faith, hope and charity, like gracious rain, Fall on thy consecrated virgin brow.

How gladly would I wander through some strange and savage land, The lasso at my saddle-bow, the rifle in my hand, A leash of gallant mastiffs bounding by my side, And, for a friend to love, the noble horse on which I ride! Alone, alone—yet not alone, for God is with me there, The tender hand of Providence shall guide me everywhere, While happy thoughts and holy hopes, as spirits calm and mild, Shall fan with their sweet wings the hermit-hunter of the wild!

A babe in the house is a well-spring of pleasure, a messenger of peace and love, a resting place for innocence on earth, a link between angels and men.

Who shall guess what I may be? Who can tell my fortune to me? For, bravest and brightest that ever was sung May be — and shall be — the lot of the young!

Open the casement, and up with the Sun! His gallant journey is just begun; Over the hills his chariot is roll'd, Banner'd with glory, and burnish'd with gold,— Over the hills he comes sublime, Bridegroom of Earth, and brother of Time!

When streams of unkindness, as bitter as gall, Bubble up from the heart to the tongue, And Meekness is writhing in torment and thrall, By the hands of Ingratitude wrung, — In the heat of injustice, unwept and unfair, While the anguish is festering yet, None, none but an angel or God can declare "I now can forgive and forget."

Rise! ye gallant youth of Britain, Gather to your country's call, On your hearts her name is written, Rise to help her, one and all!

I am not old, — I cannot be old, Though tottering, wrinkled, and gray ; Though my eyes are dim, and my marrow is cold, Call me not old to-day.

Wait, thou child of hope, for Time shall teach thee all things.