"Sir, the year growing ancient,Not yet on..." - Quote by William Shakespeare
Sir, the year growing ancient,Not yet on summer's death nor on the birthOf trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' th' seasonAre our carnations and streaked gillyvors,Which some call nature's bastards.
An image illustrating the quote: "Sir, the year growing ancient,Not yet on summer's death nor on the birthOf tremb..."
More by William Shakespeare “All that glitters is not gold; Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life has sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms enfold Had you been as wise as bold, Your in limbs, in judgment old, Your answer had not been in'scroll'd Fare you well: your suit is cold.' Cold, indeed, and labour lost: Then, farewell, heat and welcome, frost!” “You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with thankfulness. For your own gifts, make yourselves praised.” “Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir.” More on Nature “I like sometimes to take rank hold on life and spend my day more as the animals do. Perhaps I have owed to this employment and tohunting, when quite young, my closest acquaintance with Nature. They early introduce us to and detain us in scenery with which otherwise, at that age, we should have little acquaintance.” “And now that we have returned to the desultory life of the plain, let us endeavor to import a little of that mountain grandeur into it. We will remember within what walls we lie, and understand that this level life too has its summit, and why from the mountain-top the deepest valleys have a tinge of blue; that there is elevation in every hour, as no part of the earth is so low that the heavens may not be seen from, and we have only to stand on the summit of our hour to command an uninterrupted horizon.” “Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.”
