C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.

Parnell

But now the clouds in airy tumult fly;

The sun, emerging, opes an azure sky;

A fresher green the smiling leaves display,

And glittering as they tremble, cheer the day.

Death’s but a path that must be trod,

If man would ever pass to God.

Let those love now who never loved before,

Let those that always loved now love the more.

No real happiness is found

In trailing purple o’er the ground.

Now sunk the sun; the closing hour of day

Came onward, mantled o’er with sober grey;

Nature in silence bid the world repose.

Remote from man, with God he passed the days,

Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise.

The very thoughts of change I hate,

As much as of despair;

Nor ever covet to be great,

Unless it be for her.

Then in a kiss she breath’d her various arts,

Of trifling prettily with wounded hearts;

A mind for love, but still a changing mind,

The lisp affected, and the glance design’d;

The sweet confusing blush, the secret wink,

The gentle swimming walk, the courteous sink;

The stare for strangeness fit, for scorn the frown

For decent yielding, looks declining down;

The practis’d languish, where well-feign’d desire

Would own its melting in a mutual fire;

Gay smiles to comfort; April showers to move;

And all the nature, all the art of love.

Let time that makes you homely, make you sage.

Solitude’s the nurse of woe.