Charles Sprague Quotes
Charles Sprague presents lofty, grand reflections that feel like a sunrise at a distant horizon.
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Lo where the stage, the poor, degraded stage, Holds its warped mirror to a gaping age.
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Through life's dark road his sordid way he wends, An incarnation of fat dividends.
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Behold! in Liberty's unclouded blaze We lift our heads, a race of other days.
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Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doctors' spite; Thy clouds all other clouds dispel, And lap me in delight.
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Hate shuts her soul when dove-eyed mercy pleads