Alfred Austin

"Then, without toil, by vale and mountain side, Men found their few and simple wants supplied; Plenty, like dew, dropped subtle from the air, And Earth's fair gifts rose prodigal as prayer. Love, with no charms except its own to lure, Was swiftly answered by a love as pure. No need for wealth; each glittering fruit and flower, Each star, each streamlet, made the maiden's dower."

"Lo, where huge London, huger day by day, O'er six fair counties spreads its hideous sway."

"And Clara dies that Claribel may dance."

"Let your house Be spacious more than splendid, and be books And busts your most conspicuous furniture."

"Friendship craves The commerce of the mind, not the exchange Of emulous feasts that foster sycophants."

"Know, Nature, like the cuckoo, laughs at law, Placing her eggs in whatso nest she will."

"Friendship, 'tis said, is love without his wings, And friendship, sir, is sweet enough for me."

"Death is the looking-glass of life wherein Each man may scan the aspect of his deeds."

"Your logic may be good, But dialectics never saved a soul."

"[…] there is no love, That merits such high christening, but is built Firm upon some foundation out of sight; God, country, virtue, something not ourself, To which ourself is nothing, save the proof Of its invisible sureness."

"Never fear to weep; For tears are summer showers to the soul, To keep it fresh and green."

"Who loves his country never forfeits heaven."

"So, timely you came, and well you chose, You came when most needed, my winter rose. From the snow I pluck you, and fondly press Your leaves 'twixt the leaves of my leaflessness."

"Life seems like a haunted wood, where we tremble and crouch and cry."

"[…] faded smiles oft linger in the face, While grief's first flakes fall silent on the head!"

"My virgin sense of sound was steeped In the music of young streams; And roses through the casement peeped, And scented all my dreams."

"I love the doubt, the dark, the fear, That still surroundeth all things here. I love the mystery, nor seek to solve; Content to let the stars revolve, Nor ask to have their meaning clear. Enough for me, enough to feel; To let the mystic shadows steal Into a land whither I cannot follow. To see the stealthy sunlight leave Dewy dingle, dappled hollow; To watch, when falls the hour of eve, Quiet shadows on a quiet hill; To watch, to wonder, and be still."

"Why from the plain truth should I shrink? In woods men feel; in towns they think. Yet, which is best? Thought, stumbling, plods Past fallen temples, vanished gods, Altars unincensed, fanes undecked, Eternal systems flown or wrecked; Through trackless centuries that grant To the poor trudge refreshment scant, Age after age, pants on to find A melting mirage of the mind. But feeling never wanders far, Content to fare with things that are."

"Doth Nature draw me, 'tis because, Unto my seeming, there doth lurk A lawlessness about her laws, More mood than purpose in her work."

"If Nature built by rule and square, Than man what wiser would she be? What wins us is her careless care, And sweet unpunctuality."

"In vain would science scan and trace Firmly her aspect. All the while, There gleams upon her far-off face A vague unfathomable smile."

"O thou sophist, Man! Reason by reason proved unreasonable Continues reasoning still! Confronted close, What is this reason? Like the peacock's tail, Just useful for a flourish, nothing more; And when 'tis down, the world goes on the same."

"Love and naughtiness are always in their teens."

"Let Will but set its appetite on war, And Reason will promptly invent offence, And furnish blood with arguments."

"Omit death's certain sharpness, life would lack The salt that lends it savour."

"Death is master of lord and clown. Close the coffin and hammer it down."

"Public opinion is no more than this, What people think that other people think."

"Who once has doubted never quite believes."

"Who once believed will never wholly doubt."

"Is life worth living? Yes, so long As Spring revives the year, And hails us with the cuckoo's song, To show that she is here;"

"Is life worth living? Yes, so long As there is wrong to right, Wail of the weak against the strong, Or tyranny to fight;"

"So long as Faith with Freedom reigns And loyal Hope survives, And gracious Charity remains To leaven lowly lives; While there is one untrodden tract For Intellect or Will, And men are free to think and act, Life is worth living still."

"He is dead already who doth not feel Life is worth living still."

"Of all our feigned affections, there is none So hollow, selfish, and injurious, As what we christen Patriotism."

"'Tis a world Where all is bought, and nothing's worth the price."

"Towns can be trusted to corrupt themselves."

"The Devil is an echo Of search unsatisfied."

"There is no office in this needful world But dignifies the doer if done well."

"Why should you, Because the world is foolish, not be wise?"

"When the foal and broodmare hinny, And in every cut-down spinney Ladysmocks grow mauve and mauver, Then the winter days are over"

"Imagination should A reconciler, not a rebel, be, To teach the heart of man to apprehend Nature's vicissitudes, and bear his own, With sympathetic fancy."

"[T]here is no gardening without humility, an assiduous willingness to learn, and a cheerful readiness to admit that you were mistaken. Nature is continually sending even its oldest scholars to the bottom of the class for some egregious blunder."

"Once learn how Nature gardens for herself, and you will be able to spare yourself a good deal of trouble."

"No one can rightly call his garden his own unless he himself made it."

"A garden that one makes oneself becomes associated with one's personal history and that of one's friends, interwoven with one's tastes, preferences, and character, and constitutes a sort of unwritten, but withal manifest autobiography. Show me your garden, provided it be your own, and I will tell you what you are like."

"[E]xclusiveness in a garden is a mistake as great as it is in society."

"[H]e who saves an ancient tree does better even than he who plants a new one."

"Whatever else he may do, a critic reveals and criticises himself."

"If you are not something of a philosopher,—and by philosophy I understand a serene temper, and the maintaining of an equable mind under the sharpest disappointments,—I do not advise you to cultivate, or at any rate to grow enamoured of, a garden."

"A writer cannot take his occupation too seriously. He cannot take himself too lightly."