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!
James Russell LowellThe pale and quiet moon Makes her calm forehead bare, And the last fragments of the storm, Like shattered rigging from a fight at sea, Silent and few, are drifting over me.
James Russell LowellThere is nothing so desperately monotonous as the sea, and I no longer wonder at the cruelty of pirates.
James Russell LowellOld gold has a civilizing virtue which new gold must grow old to be capable of secreting.
James Russell Lowell