Quotes from Robert Bridges

My delight and thy delight Walking, like two angels white, In the gardens of the night.

Beauty being the best of all we know sums up the unsearchable and secret aims of nature.

And whiter grows the foam, The small moon lightens more; And as I turn me home, My shadow walks before.

I live in hope and that I think do all Who come into this world.

Smile of love, a flower planted, Sprung in the garden of joy that art: Eyes that shine with a glow enchanted, Whose spreading fires encircle my heart, And warm with a noon-ray drenched in fire My land of delight, my land of desire!

Pure Reason left to herself relieth on axioms and essential premises which she can neither question nor resolve.

When June is come, then all the day I'll sit with my love in the scented hay: And watch the sunshot palaces high, That the white clouds build in the breezy sky. She singeth, and I do make her a song, And read sweet poems the whole day long: Unseen as we lie in our haybuilt home. O life is delight when June is come.

She has learnt the language of love From lips that laugh in the sun, Where the skies are so clear above, Her eyes fresh blue have won. But oh be still my heart! Will she yet remember the day Her tears o'er our kiss did run, The day that she went away?

'Twas here we loved in sunnier days and greener; And now, in this disconsolate decay, I come to see her where I most have seen her, And touch the happier day.

For beauty being the best of all we know Sums up the unsearchable and secret aims Of nature.

The ground-root folly of this piteous philanthropy is thinking to distribute indivisibles, and make equality in things incommensurable: forged under such delusions, all Utopias are castles in the air or counsels of despair.

From Adam's wife, that proved a curse Though God had made her for a blessing, All women born are so perverse No man need boast their love possessing.

Since to be loved endures, To love is wise.

There's not a ship in sight; And as the sun goes under Thick clouds conspire to cover The moon that should rise yonder. Thou art alone, fond lover.

Solemn is sleep, O sea, When thou art nigh to the bed: And Death is terror to me, When thou dost talk of the dead.

And dead leaves wrap the fruits that summer planted: And birds that love the South have taken wing. The wanderer, loitering o'er the scene enchanted, Weeps, and despairs of spring.

That discipline which corrects the eagerness of worldly passions, which fortifies the heart with virtuous principles, which enlightens the mind with useful knowledge, and furnishes to it matter of enjoyment from within itself, is of more consequence to real felicity than all the provisions which we can make of the goods of fortune.

I love all beauteous things,I seek and adore them;God hath no better praise,And man in his hasty daysIs honored for them.

When men were all asleep, the snow came flying,In large white flakes falling on the city brown,Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town.

Whither, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding,Leaning across the bosom of the urgent West,That fearest nor sea rising, nor sky clouding,Whither away, fair rover, and what thy quest?

Beauty, the eternal Spouse of the Wisdom of God and Angel of his Presence thru' all creation.

I know that if odour were visible, as colour is, I'd see the summer garden in rainbow clouds.

Weep not today: why should this sadness be? Learn in present fears To o'ermaster those tears That unhindered conquer thee.

The evening darkens over After a day so bright, The windcapt waves discover That wild will be the night.