A Quote by Alexander Pope

Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath, The clamtrous lapwings feel the leaden death; Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare They fall, and leave their little lives in air.

Alexander Pope

Quote Topics

Air Airy Death Fall Feel Heath Larks Leave Little Lives Mounting Notes Oft Prepare Rings

Quote Author

Alexander Pope
English - Poet
May 21, 1688 - May 30, 1744

Oft expectation fails, and most oft there where most it promises; and oft it hits where hope is coldest, and despair most fits.

William Shakespeare

No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings, Shall, list'ning, in mid-air suspend their wings.

Alexander Pope

As some to church repair, Not for the doctrine, but the music there. These equal syllables alone require, Though oft the ear the open vowels tire While expletives their feeble aid do join, And ten low words oft creep in one dull line.

Alexander Pope

Lives of great men oft remind us as we o'er their pages turn, That we too may leave behind us - Letters that we ought to burn.

Thomas Hood

My joy is death- Death, at whose name I oft have been afeard, Because I wish'd this world's eternity.

William Shakespeare

Strange secrets are let out by Death Who blabs so oft the follies of this world.

Benjamin Franklin

Faded smiles oft linger in the face, While grief's first flakes fall silent on the heart!

Alfred Austin

Let brisker youths their active nerves prepare Fit their light silken wings and skim the buxom air.

Richard Owen Cambridge

The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.

William Shakespeare

If two lives join, there is oft a scar. They are one and one, with a shadowy third; One near one is too far.

Robert Browning

Oft a little morning rain Foretells a pleasant day.

Charlotte Bronte

God oft hath a great share in a little house.

George Herbert

O thou who passest through our valleys in Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat That flames from their large nostrils! Thou, O Summer, Oft pitchest here thy golden tent, and oft Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.