Not on the outer world For inward joy depend; Enjoy the luxury of thought, Make thine own self friend; Not with the restless throng, In search of solace roam But with an independent zeal Be intimate at home.
Leaving the tumultuous throng, To cut across the reflex of a star; Image that, flying still before me, gleamed Upon the glassy plain.william wordsworth
...the power [...] has never disarmed, is today in certain respects stronger than ever, possesses a much better disciplined, more unconditionally submissive throng of officials than in any former century, and is only waiting for the hour when it can unscrupulously assert itself.houston stewart chamberlain
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,Flung roses, roses riotously with the throngErnest Dowson
While, like a ghastly rapid river, Through the pale door A hideous throng rush out forever And laugh but smile no more.edgar allan poe
Not in the clamor of the crowded street, Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, But in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
At the gate of the West I stand, On the isle where the nations throng. We call them "scum o' the earth."
In tears I tossed my coin from Trevi's edge. A coin unsordid as a bond of love And, with the instinct of the homing dove, I gave to Rome my rendezvous and pledge. And when imperious Death Has quenched my flame of breath, Oh, let me join the faithful shades that throng that fount above.
Just where the Treasury's marble front * Looks over Wall Street's mingled nations, Where Jews and Gentiles most are wont * To throng for trade and last, quotations; Where, hour, by hour, the rates of gold * Outrival, in the ears of people, The quarter-chimes, serenely tolled From Trinity's undaunted steeple.edmund clarence stedman
Consider how august a privilege it is, when angels are present, and archangels throng around, when cherubim and seraphim encircle with their blaze the throne, that a mortal may approach with unrestrained confidence, and converse with heaven's dread Sovereign! O, what honor was ever conferred like this?
I have forgot much,Cynara! Gone with the wind, Flung roses, roses, riotously with the throng, Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind; But I was desolate and sick of an old passion, Yea, all the time, because the dance was long: I have been faithful to thee,Cynara! in my fashion.Ernest Dowson