Know then, unnumber'd Spirits round thee fly,
The light Militia of the lower sky.
He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city.
A wounded spirit who can bear?
After the spiritual powers, there is no thing in the world more unconquerable than the spirit of nationality. . . The spirit of nationality in Ireland will persist even though the mightiest of material powers be its neighbor.
Black spirits and white,
Red spirits and grey,
Mingle, mingle, mingle,
You that mingle may.
The Spirits are not finely touched
But to fine issues.
The spirit, Sir, is one of mockery.
Of my own spirit let me be
In sole though feeble mastery.
Boatman, come, thy fare receive;
Thrice thy fare I gladly give,
For unknown, unseen by thee,
Spirits twain have crossed with me.
SPORT
(See also Amusement)
By sports like these are all their cares beguil'd,
The sports of children satisfy the child.
Nee luisse pudet, sed non incidere ludum.
The shame is not in having sported, but in not having broken off the sport.
When I play with my cat, who knows whether
I do not make her more sport, than she makes
me?
Montaigne—A pohgy for Raimond de Sebonde.
SPRING
Beowulf. VII.
Now Spring returns; but not to me returns
The vernal joy my better years have known;
Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns,
And all the joys of life with health have flown.
Michael Bruce—Elegy, written in Spring.
Now Nature hangs her mantle green
On every blooming tree,
And spreads her sheets o' daisies white
Out o'er the grassy lea.
Burns—Lament of Mary Queen of Scats.
And the spring comes slowly up this way.
Coleridge—Christabel. Pt. I.
Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees,
Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze.
| author = Cowper
| work = Tirocinium. L. 43.
If there comes a little thaw,
Still the air is chill and raw,
Here and there a patch of snow,
Dirtier than the ground below,
Dribbles down a marshy flood;
Ankle-deep you stick in mud
In the meadows while you sing,
"This is Spring."
C. P. Cranch—A Spring Growl.
Starred forget-me-nots smile sweetly,
Ring, blue-bells, ring!
Winning eye and heart completely,
Sing, robin, sing!
All among the reeds and rushes,
Where the brook its music hushes,
Bright the caloposon blushes,—
Laugh, O murmuring Spring!
Sarah F. Davis—Summer Song.
Daughter of heaven and earth, coy Spring,
With sudden passion languishing,
Teaching barren moors to smile,
Painting pictures mile on mile,
Holds a cup of cowslip wreaths
Whence a smokeless incense breathes.
Emerson—May Day. St. 1.
Eternal Spring, with smiling Verdure here
Warms the mild Air, and crowns the youthful
Year.
The Rose still blushes, and the vi'lets blow.
Sir Sam'l Garth—The Dispensary. Canto IV.
L. 298.
{{Hoyt quote
| num = | text = <poem>Lo! where the rosy bosom'd Hours
Fair Venus' train appear, Disclose the long-expecting flowers, And wake the purple year. Gray—Ode on Spring. Compare Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite. (Hymn E.)
