Quote #6
In winter, when the dismal rain Comes down in slanting lines, And Wind, that grand old harper, smote His thunder-harp of pines.
More from Alexander Smith
- Like a pale martyr in his shirt of fire.
- A poem round and perfect as a star.
- The man who in this world can keep the whiteness of his soul is not likely to lose it in any other.
- Some books are drenched sands On which a great soul's wealth lies all in heaps, Like a wrecked argosy.
- Time has fallen asleep in the afternoon sunshine.
- The saddest thing that befalls a soul Is when it loses faith in God and woman.
- The soul of man is like the rolling world, One half in day, the other dipt in night; The one has music and the flying cloud, The other, sil…
- We twain have met like the ships upon the sea, Who hold an hour's converse, so short, so sweet; One little hour! And then, away they speed …