Alfred Austin Quotes
Alfred Austin offers uplifting, reflective thoughts on life, hope and justice.
-
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.
-
O'er the wires the electric message came, 'He is no better; he is much the same.'
-
The glory of gardening: hands in the dirt, head in the sun, heart with nature. To nurture a garden is to feed not just on the body, but the soul. There is no gardening without humility. Nature is constantly sending even its oldest scholars to the bottom of the class for some egregious blunder.
-
Through the dripping weeks that follow One another slow, and soak Summer's extinguished fire and autumn's drifting smoke.
-
Falling stars are high examples sent To warn, not lure. Gross fancy says they are Substantial meteors; but that is not so. They are the merest phantasies of Night, When she's asleep, and, dimly visited By past effects, she dreams of Lucifer Hurled out of Heaven.
-
Pale January lay In its cradle day by day Dead or living, hard to say.
-
No verse which is unmusical or obscure can be regarded as poetry whatever other qualities it may possess.
-
Show me your garden and I shall tell you what you are.
-
My virgin sense of sound was steeped In the music of young streams; And roses through the casement peeped, And scented all my dreams.
-
Public opinion is no more than this: what people think that other people think.
-
Tears are summer showers to the soul.
-
Tears are the summer showers to the soul.
-
Though my verse but roam the air And murmur in the trees, You may discern a purpose there, As in music of the bees.
-
Tis true among fields and woods I sing, Aloof from cities--that my poor strains Were born, like the simple flowers you bring, In English meadows and English lanes.