Quotes from Bernard Barton

Patience wins the race.

Welcome, wild harbinger of spring! To this small nook of earth; Feeling and fancy fondly cling, Round thoughts which owe their birth, To thee, and to the humble spot, Where chance has fixed thy lowly lot.

As I walk'd by myself, I talk'd to myself, And myself replied to me; And the questions myself then put to myself, With their answers I give to thee.

But what is Fortune? What is Fate? The Christian knows them not: He knows a Being, good as great, Controls his earthly lot: No fabled phantom's vain caprice Assails his joy, or mars his peace.

Adieu to those more cheerful hours, Spent amid Spring's unfolding flowers, Or Summer's soothing shade; A few short weeks--and then adieu To fields and groves of changeful hue, By Autumn's hand array'd!

Welcome, wild harbinger of spring! To this small nook of earth; Feeling and fancy fondly cling, Round thoughts which owe their birth, To thee, and to the humble spot, Where chance has fixed thy lowly lot.

'Tis Autumn! and the short'ning day, The chilly evening's sober gray, And winds that hoarser blow; The fading foliage of the trees, Which rustles sere in every breeze, The approach of Winter show.

That thorny path, those stormy skies, Have drawn our spirits nearer; And rendered us, by sorrow's ties, Each to the other dearer.

Yet not the lily nor the rose, Though fairer far they be, Can more delightful thoughts disclose Than I derive from thee.

Defying Fate's and Fortune's will; What first was fair, is glorious still.

And deeper is the hush'd delight, When, with her mild and mellowing light, The full-orb'd moon on high In gentle majesty comes forth, Shedding her beauty on the earth, Her glory through the sky.

Patience wins the race.

Obstinacy and vehemency in opinion are the surest proofs of stupidity.

No age, sex, or condition is above or below the absolute necessity of modesty; but without it one is vastly beneath the rank of man.