Winthrop Mackworth Praed Quotes
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Woman! thou loveliest gift that here below Man can receive, or Providence bestow.
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I think, whatever mortals crave, With impotent endeavor, A wreath--a rank--a throne--a grave-- The world goes round forever; I think that life is not too long, And therefore I determine, That many people read a song, Who will not read a sermon.
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The Baptist found him far too deep; The Deist sighed with saving sorrow; And the lean Levite went to sleep, And dreamed of tasting pork to-morrow.
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Apollo has peeped through the shutter, And awaken'd the witty and fair; The boarding-school belle's in a flutter, The twopenny post's in despair; The breath of the morning is flinging A magic on blossom and spray, And cockneys and sparrows are singing In chorus on Valentine's day.
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Twelve years ago I made a mock Of filthy trades and traffics; I considered what they meant by stock; I wrote delightful sapphics; I knew the streets of Rome and Troy, I supped with fates and Fairies-- Twelve years ago I was a boy, A happy boy at Drury's.
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Hail, blest Confusion! here are met All tongues, and times, and faces; The Lancers flirt with Juliet, The Brahmin talks of races.
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I think while zealots fast and frown, And fight for two or seven, That there are fifty roads to town, And rather more to Heaven.
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Dame Fortune is a fickle gipsy, And always blind, and often tipsy; Sometimes for years and years together, She 'll bless you with the sunniest weather, Bestowing honour, pudding, pence, You can't imagine why or whence; Then in a moment Presto, pass! Your joys are withered like the grass
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And oh! I shall find how, day by day, All thoughts and things look older; How the laugh of pleasure grows less gay, And the heart of friendship colder.
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I remember, I remember how my childhood fleeted by. The mirth of its December, and the warmth of its July.