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Quote by George Crabbe

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The poetical works of the rev. George Crabbe: with his letters and journals, and his life

Comprising a comprehensive selection of Crabbe's poetry, this volume offers insight into his literary contributions. It also provides a glimpse into his personal life through his letters and journals, accompanied by a detailed biography that explores his life and times. more

Author

George Crabbe
George Crabbe

George Crabbe (December 24, 1754 - February 3, 1832) was an English poet known for his profound depictions of rural life and critical reflections on social realities. His poetry, characterized by its detailed portrayal of the countryside and social commentary, has earned him a place as one of the most significant poets of the late 18th and early 19th centuries. more

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“Genius! thou gift of Heav'n! thou Light divine! Amid what dangers art thou doom'd to shine! Oft will the body's weakness check thy force, Oft damp thy Vigour, and impede thy course; And trembling nerves compel thee to restrain Thy noble efforts, to contend with pain; Or Want (sad guest!) will in thy presence come, And breathe around her melancholy gloom: To Life's low cares will thy proud thought confine, And make her sufferings, her impatience, thine.”

“Fortunes are made, if I the facts may state-- Though poor myself, I know the fortunate: First, there's a knowledge of the way from whence Good fortune comes--and this is sterling sense: Then perseverance, never to decline The chase of riches till the prey is thine; And firmness never to be drawn away By any passion from that noble prey-- By love, ambition, study, travel, fame, Or the vain hope that lives upon a name.”

“Blest be the gracious Power, who taught mankind To stamp a lasting image of the mind! Beasts may convey, and tuneful birds may sing, Their mutual feelings, in the opening spring; But Man alone has skill and power to send The heart's warm dictates to the distant friend; 'Tis his alone to please, instruct, advise Ages remote, and nations yet to rise.”

“To every class we have a school assign'd, Rules for all ranks, and food for every mind: Yet one there is, that small regard to rule Or study pays, and still is deem'd a school; That, where a deaf, poor, patient widow sits, And awes some thirty infants as she knits; Infants of humble, busy wives, who pay Some trifling price for freedom through the day. At this good matron's hut the children meet, Who thus becomes the mother of the street.”