Joanna Baillie

Think'st thou there are no serpents in the world
But those who slide along the grassy sod,
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Think'st thou there are no serpents in the world
But those who slide along the grassy sod,
And sting the luckless foot that presses them?
There are who in the path of social life
Do bask their spotted skins in Fortune's sun,
And sting the soul.

The brave man is not he who feels no fear. For that were stupid and irrational. But he, whose noble read more

The brave man is not he who feels no fear. For that were stupid and irrational. But he, whose noble soul its fears subdues, and bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from.

The brave man is not he who feels no fear,
For that were stupid and irrational;
But read more

The brave man is not he who feels no fear,
For that were stupid and irrational;
But he, whose noble soul its fear subdues,
And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from.

The hushed winds wail with feeble moan
Like infant charity.

The hushed winds wail with feeble moan
Like infant charity.

The brave man is not he who feels no fear, For that were stupid and irrational; But he, whose noble read more

The brave man is not he who feels no fear, For that were stupid and irrational; But he, whose noble soul its fears subdues, And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from.