Robert Blair

The grave, dread thing!
Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature appalled,
Shakes off her wonted firmness.

The grave, dread thing!
Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature appalled,
Shakes off her wonted firmness.

Smiled like yon knot of cowslips on a cliff.

Smiled like yon knot of cowslips on a cliff.

The schoolboy, with his satchel in his hand,
Whistling aloud to bear his courage up.

The schoolboy, with his satchel in his hand,
Whistling aloud to bear his courage up.

Our time is fixed, and all our days are number'd;
How long, how short, we know not:--this we know,
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Our time is fixed, and all our days are number'd;
How long, how short, we know not:--this we know,
Duty requires we calmly wait the summons,
Nor dare to stir till Heaven shall give permission.

The best-concerted schemes men lay for fame,
Die fast away: only themselves die faster.
The far-fam'd sculptor, read more

The best-concerted schemes men lay for fame,
Die fast away: only themselves die faster.
The far-fam'd sculptor, and the laurell'd bard,
Those bold insurancers of deathless fame,
Supply their little feeble aids in vain.