poets-from-new-hampshire

"'Tis infamy to die and not be missed."

"Rouse to some work of high and holy love, And thou an angel's happiness shall know."

"The sultry summer past, September comes, Soft twilight of the soft-declining year. All mildness, soothing loneliness and peace, The fading season ere the falling come."

"Time well employed is Satan's deadliest foe: It leaves no opening for the lurking fiend."

"Be thy best thoughts to work divine addressed; Do something — do it soon — will all thy might; An angel's wing would droop if long at rest, And God Himself inactive were no longer blessed."

"Of true benevolence, its charms divine, With other motives to call forth its power, And its grand triumphs, multiplied beyond All former bounds, in this its golden age, Humbly I sing, awed by the holy theme; A theme exalted, though as yet unsung, In beauty rich, of inspiration full, And worthy of a nobler harp than that From which heroic strains sublimely sound."

"Widespread ignorance bordering on idiocy is our new national goal. ... The ideal citizen of a politically corrupt state, such as the one we now have, is a gullible dolt unable to tell truth from bullshit. An educated, well-informed population, the kind that a functioning democracy requires, would be difficult to lie to, and could not be led by the nose by the various vested interests running amok in this country."

"Should some senator or congressman have a sudden attack of conscience and blurt something out, “dark money” brings them to their senses and reminds them that their job is to facilitate the transfer of public funds into the pockets of the few and to not ask too many questions."

"It’s never been such a good time to be a crook. In what other country of laws does one enjoy so much freedom to defraud one’s government and fellow citizens without having to worry about cops showing at the door? Small-time crooks sooner or later end up in the slammer, but our big-time con artists, as we’ve come to learn, are now regarded as the untouchables, too well-heeled and powerful to lock up."

"Now and then, especially at night, solitude loses its soft power and loneliness takes over. I am grateful when solitude returns."

"But the form of free verse is as binding and as liberating as the form of a rondeau."

"The laurels of an orator who is not a master of literary art wither quickly."

"He has the courage of his conviction and the intolerance of his courage. He is opposed to the death penalty for murder, but he would willingly have anyone electrocuted who disagreed with him on the subject."

"There is always a heavy demand for fresh mediocrity. In every generation the least cultivated taste has the largest appetite."

"Dialect tempered with slang is an admirable medium of communication between persons who have nothing to say and persons who would not care for anything properly said."

"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."

"The possession of unlimited power will make a despot of almost any man. There is a possible Nero in the gentlest human creature that walks."

"A man is known by the company his mind keeps."

"Conservatism and respectability have their values, certainly; but has not the unconventional its values also?"

"Dear Lord, though I be changed to senseless clay. And serve the potter as he turns his wheel, I thank thee for the precious gift of tears!"

"If you chance to live in a town where the authorities cannot rest until they have destroyed every precious tree within their blighting reach, you will be especially charmed by the beauty of the streets of Portsmouth. In some parts of the town, when the chestnuts are in blossom, you would fancy yourself in a garden in fairyland."

"O harp of life, so speedily unstrung!"

"The man who suspects his own tediousness is yet to be born."

"After a debauch of thunder-shower, the weather takes the pledge and signs it with a rainbow."

"Books that have become classics—books that have had their day and now get more praise than perusal—always remind me of venerable colonels and majors and captains who, having reached the age limit, find themselves retired on half pay."

"The possession of gold has ruined fewer men than the lack of it. What noble enterprises have been checked and what fine souls have been blighted in the gloom of poverty the world will never know."

"Between the reputation of the author living and the reputation of the same author dead there is ever a wide discrepancy."

"Great orators who are not also great writers become very indistinct shadows to the generations following them. The spell vanishes with the voice."

"All the best sands of my life are somehow getting into the wrong end of the hour-glass. If I could only reverse it! Were it in my power to do so, would I?"

"Shakespeare is forever coming into our affairs—putting in his oar, so to speak—with some pat word or sentence."

"Black Tragedy lets slip her grim disguise And shows you laughing lips and rougish eyes. But when, unmasked, gay Comedy appears, 'Tis ten to one you find the girl in tears."

"When Washington visited Portsmouth in 1789 he was not much impressed by the architecture of the little town that had stood by him so stoutly in the struggle for independence."

"So precious life is! Even to the old The hours are as a miser’s coins!"

"My father invested his money so securely in the banking business that he was never able to get any of it out again."

"The ring of a false coin is not more recognizable than that of a rhyme setting forth a simulated sorrow."

"The fate of the worm refutes the pretended ethical teaching of the proverb which assumes to illustrate the advantage of early rising and does so by showing how extremely dangerous it is."

"We visit […] a neighboring graveyard. I am by this time in a condition of mind to become a willing inmate of the place."

"That was indeed to live— At one bold swoop to wrest From darkling death the best That Death to Life can give!"

"There's a special Providence that watches over idiots, drunken men, and boys."

"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!”"

"Or light or dark, or short or tall, She sets a springe to snare them all: All's one to her—above her fan She'd make sweet eyes at Caliban."

"They fail, and they alone, who have not striven."

"Famous old houses seem to have an intuitive perception of the value of corner lots. If it is a possible thing, they always set themselves down on the most desirable spot."

"Dwellers by the sea are generally superstitious; sailors always are. There is something in the illimitable expanse of sky and water that dilates the imagination."

"Wide open and unguarded stand our gates, Named of the four winds, North, South, East and West; Portals that lead to an enchanted land Of cities, forests, fields of living gold Vast prairies, lordly summits touched with snow, Majestic rivers sweeping proudly past The Arab's date-palm and the Norseman's pine— A realm wherein are fruits of every zone, Airs of all climes, for lo! throughout the year The red rose blossoms somewhere—a rich land A later Eden planted in the wilds, With not an inch of earth within its bound But if a slave's foot press it sets him free. Here, it is written, Toil shall have its wage And Honor honor, and the humblest man Stand level with the highest in the law. Of such a land have men in dungeons dreamed And with the vision brightening in their eyes Gone smiling to the fagot and the sword. Wide open and unguarded stand our gates, And through them press a wild, a motley throng— Men from the Volga and the Tartar steppes, Featureless figures of the Hoang-Ho, Malayan, Scythian, Teuton, Kelt, and Slav, Flying the Old World’s poverty and scorn; These bringing with them unknown gods and rites, Those tiger passions, here to stretch their claws. In street and alley what strange tongues are these, Accents of menace alien to our air, Voices that once the Tower of Babel knew! O, Liberty, white goddess, is it well To leave the gate unguarded? On thy breast Fold Sorrow's children, soothe the hurts of fate, Lift the downtrodden, but with the hand of steel Stay those who to thy sacred portals come To waste the gifts of freedom. Have a care Lest from thy brow the clustered stars be torn And trampled in the dust. For so of old The thronging Goth and Vandal trampled Rome, And where the temples of the Caesars stood The lean wolf unmolested made her lair."

"What is lovely never dies, But passes into other loveliness, Star-dust, or sea-foam, or wingëd air."

"When friends are at your hearthside met, Sweet courtesy has done its most If you have made each guest forget That he himself is not the host."

"If my best wines mislike thy taste, And my best service win thy frown, Then tarry not, I bid thee haste; There's many another Inn in town."

"Humor is a delicate shrub, with the passing hectic flush of its time. The current-topic variety is especially subject to early frosts, as is also the dialectic species."

"It is only your habitual late riser who takes in the full flavor of Nature at those rare intervals when he gets up to go a-fishing. He brings virginal emotions and unsatiated eyes to the sparkling freshness of earth and stream and sky."