Joanna Baillie

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 tyrant now
Trusts not to men: nightly within his chamber
The watch-dog guards his couch, the read more

The tyrant now
Trusts not to men: nightly within his chamber
The watch-dog guards his couch, the only friend
He now dare trust.

Good-morrow to thy sable beak,
And glossy plumage, dark and sleek,
Thy crimson moon and azure eye,
read more

Good-morrow to thy sable beak,
And glossy plumage, dark and sleek,
Thy crimson moon and azure eye,
Cock of the heath, so wildly shy!

But woman's grief is like a summer storm,
Short as it violent is.

But woman's grief is like a summer storm,
Short as it violent is.