1.
Darius was clearly of the opinion
That the air is also man's dominion,
And that, with paddle or fins or pinion,
We soon or late
Shall navigate
The azure, as now we sail the sea.
John Townsend Trowbridge
2.
With years a richer life begins, the spirit mellow: ripe age gives tones to violins, wine, and good fellows.
John Townsend Trowbridge
3.
Men are polished, through act and speech, Each by each, As pebbles are smoothed on the rolling beach.
John Townsend Trowbridge
4.
If you will observe, it doesn't take
A man of giant mould to make
A giant shadow on the wall;
And he who in our daily sight
Seems but a figure mean and small,
Outlined in Fame's illusive light,
May stalk, a silhouette sublime,
Across the canvas of his time.
John Townsend Trowbridge
5.
The birds can fly, An' why can't I?
John Townsend Trowbridge
6.
Not in rewards, but in the strength to strive, the blessing lies.
John Townsend Trowbridge
7.
For me the diamond dawns are set In rings of beauty.
John Townsend Trowbridge
8.
A flower more sacred than far-seen success Perfumes my solitary path; I find Sweet compensation in my humbleness, And reap the harvest of a quiet mind.
John Townsend Trowbridge
9.
"The birds can fly, an' why can't I? Must we give in," says he, with a grin, "'T the blackbird an' phoebe are smarter 'n we be? Jest fold our hands, an' see the swaller An' blackbird an' catbird beat us holler? ... Jest show me that! er prove 't that bat Hez got more brains thans's in my hat, An' I'll back down, an' not till then!"
John Townsend Trowbridge
10.
On turf and curb and bower-roof
The snow-storm spreads its ivory woof;
It paves with pearl the garden-walk;
And lovingly around the tatter'd stalk
And snivering stem its magic weaves
A mantle fair as lily-leaves.
John Townsend Trowbridge
11.
I keep some portion of my early gleam;
Brokenly bright, like moonbeams on a river,
It lights my life, a far illusive dream,
Moves as I move, and leads me on forever.
John Townsend Trowbridge
12.
The birds can fly, an' why can't I? Must we give in, says he with a grin, That the bluebird an' phoebe are smarter 'n we be?
John Townsend Trowbridge
13.
The tears of the young who go their way, last a day; But the grief is long of the old who stay.
John Townsend Trowbridge
14.
Our days, our deeds, all we achieve or are, Lay folded in our infancy; the things Of good or ill we choose while yet unborn.
John Townsend Trowbridge
15.
The speckled sky is dim with snow,
The light flakes falter and fall slow;
Athwart the hill-top, rapt and pale,
Silently drops a silvery veil; And all the valley is shut in
By flickering curtains gray and thin.
John Townsend Trowbridge
16.
Of nothing comes nothing: springs rise not above Their source in the far-hidden heart of the mountains: Whence then have descended the Wisdom and Love That in man leap to light in intelligent fountains?
John Townsend Trowbridge
17.
We are two travelers, Roger and I. Roger's my dog-come here, you scamp! Jump for the gentleman-mind your eye! Over the table,-look out for the lamp! The rogue is growing a little old; Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, And slept out-doors when nights were cold, And ate and drank and starved together.
John Townsend Trowbridge