The possession of unlimited power will make a despot of almost any man. There is a possible Nero in the gentlest of human creature that walks.
quote by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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I like to have a thing suggested rather than told in full. When every detail is given, the mind rests satisfied, and the imagination loses the desire to use its own wings.
quote by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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Books that have become classics - books that have had their day and now get more praise than perusal - always remind me of retired colonels and majors and captains who, having reached the age limit, find themselves retired on half pay.
quote by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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A Dedication
Take these rhymes into thy grace,
Since they are of thy begetting,
Lady, that dost make each place
Where thou art a jewel's setting.
Some such glamour lend this Book;
Let it be thy poet's wages
That henceforth thy gracious look
Lies reflected on its pages.
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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Appreciation
TO the sea-shell’s spiral round
’T is your heart that brings the sound:
The soft sea-murmurs that you hear
Within, are captured from your ear.
You do poets and their song
A grievous wrong,
If your own soul does not bring
To their high imagining
As much beauty as they sing.
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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I'll Not Confer With Sorrow
I'll not confer with Sorrow
Till to-morrow;
But Joy shall have her way
This very day.
Ho, eglantine and cresses
For her tresses!--
Let Care, the beggar, wait
Outside the gate.
Tears if you will--but after
Mirth and laughter;
Then, folded hands on breast
And endless rest.
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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Pillared Arch and Sculptured Tower
Pillared arch and sculptured tower
Of Ilium have had their hour;
The dust of many a king is blown
On the winds from zone to zone;
Many a warrior sleeps unknown.
Time and Death each hold in thrall,
Yet is Love the lord of all;
Still does Helen's beauty stir
Because a poet sang of her!
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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Identity
SOMEWHERE--in desolate wind-swept space--
In Twilight-land--in No-man's land--
Two hurrying Shapes met face to face,
And bade each other stand.
"And who are you?" cried one a-gape,
Shuddering in the gloaming light.
"I know not," said the second Shape,
"I only died last night!"
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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Sestet
SENT TO A FRIEND WITH A VOLUME OF TENNYSON
Wouldst thou know the knightly clash of steel on steel?
Or list the throstle singing loud and clear?
Or walk at twilight by some haunted mere
In Surrey; or in throbbing London feel
Life's pulse at highest--hark, the minster's peal! . . .
Turn but the page, that various world is here!
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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A Petition
To spring belongs the violet, and the blown
Spice of the roses let the summer own.
Grant me this favor, Muse--all else withhold--
That I may not write verse when I am old.
And yet I pray you, Muse, delay the time!
Be not too ready to deny me rhyme;
And when the hour strikes, as it must, dear Muse,
I beg you very gently break the news.
poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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