I was wounded in the house of my friends.
| work = Zechariah.
| place = XIII. 6.
| topic = Wounds
| page = 921
}}
(See Anger)
WREN
{{Hoyt quote
| nume = 2
| text = And then the wren gan scippen and to daunce.
| author = Chaucer
| author =
| work = Court of Love.
| place = L. 1372.
| note =
| topic =
| page = 921
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>I took the wren's nest;—
Heaven forgive me!
Its merry architects so small
Had scarcely finished their wee hall,
That, empty still, and neat and fair,
Hung idly in the summer air.
D. M. Mulock—The Wren's Nest.
For the poor wren,
The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
Macbeth. Act IV. Sc. 2. L. 9.
Thus the fable tells us, that the wren mounted
as high as the eagle, by getting upon his back.
Tatler. No. 224.
Among the dwellings framed by birds
In field or forest with nice care,
Is none that with the little wren's
In snugness may compare.
Wordsworth—A Wren's Nest.
WRITING (See Authorship Journalism,
Pen)
WRONGS
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>In the great right of an excessive wrong.
Robert Browning—The Ring and the Book.
The other Half—Rome. L. 1,055.
Brother, brother; we are both in the wrong.
Gay—Beggar's Opera. Act II. Sc. 2.
Alas! how easily things go wrong!
A sigh too deep, or a kiss too long,
And then comes a mist and a weeping rain,
And life is never the same again.
George Macdonald—Phantastes. A Fairy
Story.
A man finds he has been wrong at every preceding stage of his career, only to deduce the
astonishing conclusion that he is at last entirely right.
Stevenson—Crabbed Age.
Once I guessed right,
And I got credit by't;
Thrice I guessed wrong,
And I kept my credit on.
Saying quoted by Swift. (1710)
| topic =
| page = 921
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Injuriarum remedium est oblivio.
The remedy for wrongs is to forget them.
Syrus—Maxims.
Higher than the perfect song
For which love longeth,
Is the tender fear of wrong,
That never wrongeth.
Bayard Taylor—Improvisations. Pt. V.
u
Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.
Wordsworth—The Excursion. Bk. III. L.
377.
YESTERDAY (See Past)
YEW
Taxus
Careless, unsocial plant! that loves to dwell
'Midst skulls and coffins, epitaphs and worms:
Where light-heel'd ghosts and visionary shades,
Beneath the wan, cold Moon (as Fame reports)
Embodied, thick, perform their mystic rounds.
No other merriment, dull tree! is thine.
Blair—The Grave. L. 22.
For there no yew nor cypress spread their gloom
But roses blossom'd by each rustic tomb.
Campbell—Theodric. L. 22.
Slips of yew
Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse.
Macbeth. Act IV. Sc. 1. L. 27.
Of vast circumference and gloom profound,
This solitary Tree! A living thing
Produced too slowly ever to decay;
Of form and aspect too magnificent
To be destroyed.
Wordsworth—Yew-Trees.
There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale,
Which to this day stands single, in the midst
Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore.
Wordsworth—Yew-Trees.
YOUTH
Young men soon give and soon forget affronts;
Old age is slow in both.
| author = Addison
| work = Calo. Act II. Sc. 5.
Youth dreams a bliss on this side death.
It dreams a rest, if not more deep,
More grateful than this marble sleep;
It hears a voice within it tell:
Calm's not life's crown, though calm is well.
'Tis all perhaps which man acquires,
But 'tis not what our youth desires.
Matthew Arnold—Youth and Calm. L. 19.
