Educators From England

"The wage-earner is as much entitled as the property-owner to claim equitable consideration for his established expectations...and that workmen have precisely the same right to be satisfied that organization is efficient, and management up to date, as management has that workmen are earning their wages."

"Because men are men, social institutions - property rights and the organisation of industry, and the system of public health and education – should be planned...to emphasise and strengthen, not the class differences which divide but the common humanity which unites them."

"The number both of pupils and school places in 1922 is... all too small. But, inadequate as they are, they represent something like an educational revolution compared with the almost complete absence of public provision which existed prior to 1902."

"In place... of "elementary" education for nine-tenths of the children and "secondary" education for the exceptionally fortunate or the exceptionally able, we need to envisage education as two stages in a single course which will embrace the whole development of childhood and adolescence up to sixteen, and obliterate the vulgar irrelevances of class inequality and economic pressure in a new educational synthesis."

"In England it is not ungentlemanly to steal halfpennies from children, and industrial interests, it may be assumed, will oppose any reform which interferes with the supply of cheap juvenile labour."

"Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake; For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take."

"They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead, They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed."

"The Venetian Bridge and the fine cliff walks are a handsome background for a wealth of entertainment which most visitors find irresistible."

"Beyond are greens where pink chestnuts, may trees and copper beeches flaunt themselves gaily."

"It is, of course, the great forest of Epping that givs an air of serenity and tranquillity to a piece of England the Industrial Age might so easily have spoiled."

"A narrow-minded nonconformist."

"Where’er she lie, Locked up from mortal eye, In shady leaves of destiny."

"Sydneian showers Of sweet discourse, whose powers Can crown old Winter’s head with flowers."

"Life that dares send A challenge to his end, And when it comes, say, Welcome, friend!"

"Days that need borrow No part of their good morrow From a fore-spent night of sorrow."

"Whoe’er she be, That not impossible she, That shall command my heart and me."

"Thou water turn'st to wine, fair friend of life; Thy foe, to cross the sweet arts of Thy reign, Distils from thence the tears of wrath and strife, And so turns wine to water back again."

"The modest front of this small floor, Believe me, reader, can say more Than many a braver marble can,— “Here lies a truly honest man!”"

"A happy soul, that all the way To heaven hath a summer’s day."

"Now though the blow that snatcht him hence, Stopt the Mouth of Eloquence, Though she be dumb e'r since his Death, Not us'd to speak but in his Breath; Yet if at least she not denies, The sad Language of our Eyes, We are contented: for then this Language none more fluent is. Nothing speaks our Grief so well As to speak nothing: Come then tell Thy mind in Tears who e'r thou be, That ow'st a Name to Misery: Eyes are Vocal, Tears have Tongues, And there be words not made with Lungs; Sententious showers, O let them fall, Their cadence is Rhetorical. Here's a Theme will drink th' expence Of all thy watry Eloquence; Weep then, onely be exprest Thus much, He's Dead, and Weep the rest."

"The conscious water saw its God and blushed."

"Let hearts and lippes speak lowd; and say Hail, door of life: and sourse of day! The door was shutt, the fountain seal'd; Yet Light was seen and Life reveald. The door was shutt, yet let in day, The fountain seald, yet life found way."

"If I were lost in misery What was it to Thy heaven and thee? What was it to Thy precious blood If my foul heart called for a flood? What if my faithless soul and I Would needs fall in With guilt and sin, What did the lamb that He should die? What did the lamb that He should need, When the wolf sins, Himself to bleed?"

"Souls are not Spaniards too; one friendly flood Of baptism blends them all into a blood. Christ's faith makes but one body of all souls, And love's that body's soul; no law controls Our free traffic for heav'n; we may maintain Peace, sure, with piety, though it come from Spain. What soul soe'er, in any language, can Speak heav'n like hers is my soul's countryman. Oh, 'tis not Spanish, but 'tis heav'n she speaks! 'Tis heaven that lies in ambush there, and breaks From thence into the wond'ring reader's breast, Who feels his warm heart hatched into a nest Of little eagles and young loves, whose high Flights scorn the lazy dust and things that die."

"’Tis love, not years or limbs that can Make the martyr, or the man."

"Love's great artillery."

"Gentle powers, forbear! Twere worse than all my miseries foreseen Should my huge wreck suck down the friendly skiffs That proffer'd aid. Oh! would that Jupiter Had hurl'd me to the deep of Erebus, Where neither god nor man might pity me."

"Mortal! fear no more,— The reign is past of ancient violence; And Jove hath sworn that time shall not deface, Nor death destroy, nor mutability Perplex the truth of love."

"Oh, where is man— That mortal god, that hath no mortal kin Or like on earth? Shall Nature's orator— The interpreter of all her mystic strains — Shall he be mute in Nature's jubilee?"

"Thou breeze, That mak'st an organ of the mighty sea, Obedient to thy wilful phantasies, Provoke him not to scorn; but soft and low, As pious maid awakes her aged sire, On tiptoe stealing, whisper in his ear The tidings of the young god's victory."

"With all your music, loud and lustily, With every dainty joy of sight and smell, Prepare a banquet meet to entertain The Lord of Thunder, that hath set you free From old oppression."

"Ye patient fields, rejoice! The blessing that ye pray for silently Is come at last; for ye shall no more fade, Nor see your flow'rets droop like famishing babes Upon your comfortless breasts."

"I know it all — All ye would ask. But ne'er shall hope be mine Till the dread secret works its fatal will In daylight visible, with wrath and scorn, And ceaseless memory of forgotten things. Then Jove shall learn what all his sulphurous bolts, Soul-piercing torments, earthquakes, fiery plagues, Disease, and loathsome, black deformity, And all confounding shame, shall ne'er persuade My voice to utter."

"There is a dark foreboding in thy speech; Thine eyes flash fearfully a moody joy That augurs a new downfall. Whence arise These desperate hopes, that seem to make thee fond Of lowest misery?"

"Aye, ye were blest with folly. Who may tell What strange conceits upon the earth were sown And gender'd by the fond garrulity Of your aereal music? Scatter'd notes, Half heard, half fancied by the erring sense Of man, on which they fell like downy seeds Sown by autumnal winds, grew up, and teem'd With plenteous madness."

"The glad sons of the deliver'd earth Shall yearly raise their multitudinous voice, Hymning great Jove, the God of Liberty! Then he grew proud, yet gentle in his pride, And full of tears, which well became his youth, As showers do spring. For he was quickly moved, And joy'd to hear sad stories that we told Of what we saw on earth, of death and woe, And all the waste of time. Then would he swear That he would conquer time; that in his reign It never should be winter; he would have No pain, no growing old, no death at all. And that the pretty damsels, whom we said He must not love, for they would die and leave him, Should evermore be young and beautiful; Or, if they must go, they should come again, Like as the flowers did. Thus he used to prate, Till we almost believed him."

"He grew, and grew, A star-bright sign of fated empery; And all conspiring omens led him on To lofty purpose and pre-eminence. The mountain eagles, towering in their pride, Stoop'd at his beck and flock'd about his path, Like the small birds by wintry famine tamed; Or with their dusky and expansive wings Shaded and fann'd him as he slept at noon. The lightnings danced before him sportively, And shone innocuous as the pale cold moon In the clear blue of his celestial eye."

"What were Jove himself If pity had not been? Was not he once A hapless babe, condemn'd to die ere born?"

"Jove is not one half so merciless As thou art to thyself. But fare thee well; Our love is all as stubborn as thy pride, And swift as firm."

"Go your way. Forget Prometheus, And all the woe that he is doom'd to bear; By his own choice this vile estate preferring To ignorant bliss and unfelt slavery."

"Horsed upon hippogriffs, the hags of night Shall come to visit me; and once an age Some desperate wight, or wizard, gaunt and grey, Shall seek this spot by help of hidden lore, To ask of things forgotten or to come. But who, beholding me, shall dare defy The wrath of Jove? Since vain is wisdom's boast, And impotent the knowledge that o'erleaps The dusky bourne of time. Twere better far That gods should quaff their nectar merrily, And men sing out the day like grasshoppers, So may they haply lull the watchful thunder."

"Now shall I become a common tale, A ruin'd fragment of a worn-out world; Unchanging record of unceasing change. Eternal landmark to the tide of time. Swift generations, that forget each other, Shall still keep up the memory of my shame Till I am grown an unbelieved fable."

"Are we not bold to bid a god repent; To break upon his slumbers with our prayers; To watch him day and night; to wear him out With endless supplication? Perhaps to beg His kind attention to a pleasant tale; To cheat him into pity, and conclude Each story with Prometheus?"

"Where'er ye sojourn, and whatever names Ye are or shall be called; fairies, or sylphs, Nymphs of the wood or mountain, flood or field: Live ye in peace, and long may ye be free To follow your good minds."

"True, thy fault is great, But we are many that will plead for thee; We and our sisters, dwellers in the streams That murmur blithely to the joyous mood, And dolefully to sadness. Not a nook In darkest woods but some of us are there, To watch the flowers, that else would die unseen."

"We have winning wiles and witcheries, Such incantations as thy sterner wit Did never dream of. Time hath been ere now That Jove hath listen'd to our minstrelsy. Till wrath would seem to drop out of his soul Like a forgotten thing."

"The mighty Jove did love us. Did? He does. There is a spell of unresisted power In wonder-working weak simplicity, Because it is not fear'd."

"Now, we are agreed, I and my destinies. The total world, — Above, below, whate'er is seen or known, And all that men, and all that gods enact, Hopes, fears, imaginations, purposes; With joy, and pain, and every pulse that beats In the great body of the universe, I give to the eternal sisterhood, To make my peace withal! And cast this husk, This hated, mangled, and dishonour'd carcase Into the balance; so have I redeem'd My proper birthright, even the changeless mind, The imperishable essence uncontroll'd."

"Hard I strove To put away my immortality, Till my collected spirits swell'd my heart Almost to bursting; but the strife is past. It is a fearful thing to be a god, And, like a god, endure a mortal's pain; To be a show for earth and wondering heaven To gaze and shudder at! But I will live, That Jove may know there is a deathless soul Who ne'er will be his subject. Yes, 'tis past. The stedfast Fates confess my absolute will,— Their own co-equal."

"Never till this day Did life disturb the dense eternity Of joyless quiet; never skylark's song, Or storm-bird's prescient scream, or eaglet's cry, Made vital the gross fog. The very light Is but an alien that can find no welcome"