18 Quotes by Henry Austin Dobson

Old books, old wine, old Nankin blue;- All things, in short, to which belong The charm, the grace that Time makes strong, All these I prize, but (entre nous) Old friends are best!

All passes, Art alone Enduring stays to us; The Bust out-lasts the throne,-- The coin, Tiberius.

All passes, Art alone Enduring stays to us; The Bust out-lasts the throne, – The coin, Tiberius.

All the seasons run their race In this quiet resting-place; Peach, and apricot, and fig Here will ripen, and grow big; Here is store and overplus – More had not Alcinous!

The ladies of St. James’s! They’re painted to the eyes; Their white is stays for ever, Their red it never dies; But Phyllida, my Phillida! Her colour comes and goes; It trembles to a lily, – It wavers to a rose.

I intended an Ode, And it turned to a Sonnet.

What ye have been ye still shall be, When we are dust the dust among, O yellow flowers!

Not as ours the books of old - Things that steam can stamp and fold; Not as ours the books of yore - Rows of type, and nothing more.

Look thy last on all things lovely, Every hour - let no night Seal thy sense in deathly slumber Till to delight Thou hast paid thy utmost blessing.