Wintry boughs against a wintry sky;
Yet the sky is partly blue
And the clouds are partly bright.
Who can tell but sap is mounting high,
Out of sight,
Ready to burst through?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The seasons' difference, as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind,
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even till 1 shrink with cold, I smile and say,
"This is no flattery."
As You Like It. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 5.
Winter's not gone yet, if the wild-geese fly that
way.
King Lear. Act II. Sc. 4. L. 46.
When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick, the shepherd, blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail.
When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Love's Labour's Lost. Act V. Sc. 2. L. 922.
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| note =
| topic = Winter
| page = 878
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{{Hoyt quote
| num = 5
| text = In winter, when the dismal rain
Came down in slanting lines,
And Wind, that grand old harper, smote
His thunder-harp of pines.
Alexander Smith—A Life Drama. Sc. 2.
Lastly came Winter cloathed all in frize,
Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill;
Whilst on his hoary beard his breath did freese,
And the dull drops, that from his purpled bill
As from a limebeck did adown distill:
In his right hand a tipped staffe he held,
With which his feeble steps he stayed still;
For he was faint with cold, and weak with eld;
That scarce his loosed limbes he hable was to
weld.
Spenser—Faerie Queene. Canto VII. Legend
of Constancie. St. 31.
Under the snowdrifts the blossoms are sleeping,
Dreaming their dreams of sunshine and June,
Down in the hush of their quiet they're keeping
Trills from the throstle's wild summer-sung tune.
Harriet Prescott Spofford—Under the
Snowdrifts.
See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train;
Vapors, and Clouds, and Storms.
Thomson—Seasons. Winter. L. 1.
| seealso = (See also Cowper)
| topic = Winter
| page = 878
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Through the hush'd air the whitening Shower
descends,
At first thin wavering; till at last the Flakes
Fall broad, and wide, and fast, dimming the day
With a continual flow. The cherished Fields
Put on their winter-robe of purest white,
'Tis brightness all; save where the new Snow
melts
Along the mazy current.
Thomson—Seasons. Winter. L. 229.
Dread Winter spreads his latest glooms,
And reigns, tremendous, o'er the conquerM Year.
How dead the vegetable kingdom lies!
How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends
His desolate domain.
Thomson—Seasons. Winter. L. 1,024.
Make we here our camp of winter;
And, through sleet and snow,
Pitchy knot and beechen splinter
On our hearth shall glow.
Here, with mirth to lighten duty,
We shall lack alone
Woman's smile and girlhood's beauty,
Childhood's lisping tone.
Whittikr—Lumbermen. St. 8.
What miracle of weird transforming
Is this wild work of frost and light,
This glimpse of glory infinite?
Whether—The Pageant. St. 8.
Stern Winter loves a dirge-like sound.
Wordsworth—On the Power of Sound. St. 12.
WISDOM
To speak as the common people do, to think
as wise men do.
Roger Ascham—Dedication to All the Gentlemen and Yeomen of England.
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| topic = Wisdom
| page = 878
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num = 15
| text = A wise man is out of the reach of fortune.
Sir Thos. Browne—Religio Medici. Quoted
as "That insolent paradox."
| seealso = (See also Juvenal)
| topic = Wisdom
| page = 878
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>The wisdom of our ancestors.
Burke:—Observations on a Late Publication on
the Present State of the Nation. Vol. 1. P.
516. Also in the Discussion on the Traitorous Correspondence Bill. (1793) Cicero
—De Legibus. II. 2. 3. Lord Eldon—
On Sir Samuel RomUly's BUI. 1815. Sydney Slum—Plymley's Letters. Letter V.
Bacon said to be first user of the phrase.
Ascribed also to Sir William Grant, in
Jennings' Anecdotal History of Parliament.
But these are foolish things to all the wise,
And I love wisdom more than she loves me;
My tendency is to philosophise
On most things, from a tyrant to a tree;
But still the spouseless virgin Knowledge flies,
What are we? and whence come we? what
shall be
Our ultimate existence? What's our present?
Are questions answerless, and yet incessant.
Byron—Don Juan. Canto VI. St. 63.
Wise men learn more from fools than fools
from the wise.
Cato. In Plutarch's Life of Cato.
| seealso = (See also Tennyson)
