546 Quotes by James Russell Lowell

And what is so rare as a day in June? / Then, if ever, come perfect days; / Then heaven tries the earth if it be tune, / And over it softly her warm ear lays: / Whether we look, or whether we listen, / We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; / Every clod feels a stir of might, / An instinct within it that reaches and towers, / And, grasping blindly above it for light, / Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers...

May is a pious fraud of the almanac, / A ghastly parody of real spring

No price is set on the lavish summer; June may be had by the poorest comer.

Maiden, when such a soul as thine is born, / The morning-stars their ancient music make.

An umbrella is of no avail against a Scotch mist.

The purely Great Whose soul no siren passion could unsphere, thou nameless, now a power and mixed with fate.