If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
Then for her wealth's sake use her with more kindness:
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If you did wed my sister for her wealth,
Then for her wealth's sake use her with more kindness:
Or if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth;
Muffle your false love with some show of blindness:
Let not my sister read it in your eye;
Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator;
Look sweet, spear fair, become disloyalty;
Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger;
Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted;
Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint;
Be secret-false: what need she be acquainted?

I think that I shall never scan
A tree as lovely as a man.
. . . read more

I think that I shall never scan
A tree as lovely as a man.
. . . .
A tree depicts divinest plan,
But God himself lives in a man.

The groves were God's first temple. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,
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The groves were God's first temple. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,
And spread the roof above them,--ere he framed
The lofty vault, to gather and roll back
The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood,
Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down
And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks
And supplication.

Where is the pride of Summer,--the green prime,--
The many, many leaves all twinkling?--three
On the mossed read more

Where is the pride of Summer,--the green prime,--
The many, many leaves all twinkling?--three
On the mossed elm; three on the naked lime
Trembling,--and one upon the old oak tree!
Where is the Dryad's immortality?

We fear that the glittering generalities of the speaker have left
an impression more delightful than permanent.
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We fear that the glittering generalities of the speaker have left
an impression more delightful than permanent.
- Franklin J. Dickman,

With little art, clear wit and sense
Suggest their own delivery.
[Ger., Es tragt Verstand und rechter read more

With little art, clear wit and sense
Suggest their own delivery.
[Ger., Es tragt Verstand und rechter Sinn,
Mit wenig Kunst sich selber vor.]

There is no true orator who is not a hero.

There is no true orator who is not a hero.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry,
Of bugles going by.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry,
Of bugles going by.

I asked of my dear friend Orator Prig:
"What's the first part of oratory?" He said, "A great wig."
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I asked of my dear friend Orator Prig:
"What's the first part of oratory?" He said, "A great wig."
"And what is the second?" Then, dancing a jig
And bowing profoundly, he said, "A great wig."
"And what is the third?" Then he snored like a pig,
And puffing his cheeks out, he replied, "A great wig."