Behold! in Liberty’s unclouded blazeWe lift our heads, a race of other days.
Centennial Ode. Stanza 22, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).
Lo where the stage, the poor, degraded stage,Holds its warped mirror to a gaping age.Charles Sprague
Through life’s dark road his sordid way he wends,An incarnation of fat dividends.Charles Sprague
Yes, social friend, I love thee well,In learned doctors’ spite;Thy clouds all other clouds dispel,And lap me in delight.Charles Sprague
Gay, guiltless pair,What seek ye from the fields of heaven?Ye have no need of prayer,Ye have no sins to be forgiven.Charles Sprague
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doctors' spite; Thy clouds all other clouds dispel And lap me in delight.Charles Sprague
Lo, where the Stage, the poor, degraded Stage, Holds its warped mirror to a gaping age!Charles Sprague
Trade hardly deems the busy day begun Till his keen eye along the sheet has run; The blooming daughter throws her needle by, And reads her schoolmate's marriage with a sigh; While the grave mother puts her glasses on, And gives a tear to some old crony gone. The preacher, too, his Sunday theme lays down To know what last new folly fills the town; Lively or sad, life's meanest, mightiest things, The fate of fighting cocks, or fighting kings.Charles Sprague