"Books are the bees which carry the quickening pollen from one to another mind."
"The child is not mine as the first was, I cannot sing it to rest, I cannot lift it up fatherly And bliss it upon my breast; Yet it lies in my little one's cradle And sits in my little one's chair, And the light of the heaven she's gone to Transfigures its golden hair."
3 likes
Source: The Changeling. Poem by James Russell Lowell, 1879.
About the author
Same author
More quotes by James Russell Lowell
"Fate loves the fearless."
"The devil loves nothing better than the intolerance of reformers."
"What visionary tints the year puts on, When falling leaves falter through motionless air Or numbly cling and shiver to be gone! How shimmer the low flats and pastures bare, As with her nectar Hebe Autumn fills The bowl between me and those distant hills, And smiles and shakes abroad her misty, tremulous hair!"
"All the beautiful sentiments in the world weigh less than a single lovely action."
"One thorn of experience is worth a whole wilderness of warning."