Winthrop Mackworth Praed Quotes & Sayings

Woman! thou loveliest gift that here below
Man can receive, or Providence bestow. — Winthrop Mackworth Praed

The Baptist found him far too deep; The Deist sighed with saving sorrow; And the lean Levite went to sleep, And dreamed of tasting pork to-morrow. — Winthrop Mackworth Praed

I think while zealots fast and frown,
And fight for two or seven,
That there are fifty roads to town,
And rather more to Heaven. — Winthrop Mackworth Praed

Apollo has peeped through the shutter,
And awaken'd the witty and fair;
The boarding-school belle's in a flutter,
The twopenny post's in despair;
The breath of the morning is flinging
A magic on blossom and spray,
And cockneys and sparrows are singing
In chorus on Valentine's day. — Winthrop Mackworth Praed

Still and pale
Thou movest in thy silver veil,
Queen of the night! the filmy shroud
Of many a mild, transparent cloud
Hides, yet adorns thee. — Winthrop Mackworth Praed

And oh! I shall find how, day by day, All thoughts and things look older; How the laugh of pleasure grows less gay, And the heart of friendship colder. — Winthrop Mackworth Praed

Dame Fortune is a fickle gipsy, And always blind, and often tipsy; Sometimes for years and years together, She 'll bless you with the sunniest weather, Bestowing honour, pudding, pence, You can't imagine why or whence; Then in a moment Presto, pass! Your joys are withered like the grass — Winthrop Mackworth Praed

Of science and logic he chatters,
As fine and as fast as he can;
Though I am no judge of such matters,
I'm sure he's a talented man. — Winthrop Mackworth Praed

I remember, I remember how my childhood fleeted by. The mirth of its December, and the warmth of its July. — Winthrop Mackworth Praed

Twelve years ago I made a mock
Of filthy trades and traffics;
I considered what they meant by stock;
I wrote delightful sapphics;
I knew the streets of Rome and Troy,
I supped with fates and Fairies
Twelve years ago I was a boy,
A happy boy at Drury's. — Winthrop Mackworth Praed

I think, whatever mortals crave, With impotent endeavor, A wreath
a rank
a throne
a grave
The world goes round forever; I think that life is not too long, And therefore I determine, That many people read a song, Who will not read a sermon. — Winthrop Mackworth Praed

Hail, blest Confusion! here are met
All tongues, and times, and faces;
The Lancers flirt with Juliet,
The Brahmin talks of races. — Winthrop Mackworth Praed