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Day of wrath, that day of burning, Seer and Sibyl speak concerning, All the world to ashes turning.
Abraham Coles -
Let us not doubt that God has a father's pity towards us, and that in the removal of that which is dearest to us He is still loving and kind. Death separates, but it also unites. It reunites whom it separates.
Abraham Coles
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Within a bony labrinthean cave, Reached by the pulse of the aerial wave, This sibyl, sweet, and Mystic Sense is found, Muse, that presides o'er all the Powers of Sound.
Abraham Coles -
O, beautiful and grand, My own, my native land! Of thee I boast: Great empire of the west, The dearest and the best, Made up of all the rest, I love thee most.
Abraham Coles -
Much of our ignorance is of ourselves. Our eyes are full of dust. Prejudice blinds us.
Abraham Coles -
Poetry is unfallen speech. Paradise knew no other, for no other would suffice to answer the need of those ecstatic days of innocence.
Abraham Coles -
True love is humble, thereby is it known; Girded for service, seeking not its own; Vaunts not itself, but speaks in self-dispraise.
Abraham Coles -
Words are freeborn, and not the vassals of the gruff tyrants of prose to do their bidding only. They have the same right to dance and sing as the dewdrops have to sparkle and the stars to shine.
Abraham Coles