Tost Quotes
More Tost Quotes
Now gold hath sway; we all obeyAnd a ruthless king is he;But he never shall send our ancient friendTo be tost on the stormy sea.
henry fothergill chorley— The brave old Oak (lyrics, 1837).
I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,My friends forsake me like a memory lost:I am the self-consumer of my woes,They rise and vanis in oblivious host,Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost:And yet I am, and live with shadows tost
john clare— I am
A world made to be lost, —A bitter life 'twixt pain and nothing tost.
william morris— "The Hill of Venus".
Fain would I Raphael's godlike art rehearse, And show th' immortal labours in my verse, Where from themingled strength of shade and light A new creation rises to my sight, Such heavenly figures from his pencil flow, So warm with life his blended colours glow. From theme to theme with secret pleasure tost, Amidst the soft variety I 'm lost: Here pleasing airs my ravish'd soul confound With circling notes and labyrinths of sound; Here domes and temples rise in distant views, And opening palaces invite my Muse.
joseph addison— A Letter from Italy (1703).
Aussi tost vient à Pasques limaçon.
Eustache Deschamps— The snail will get to Easter just as soon."Moult se vantoit li cerfs d'estre legiers", line 10; text and translation from Brian Woledge (ed.) The Penguin Book of French Verse, 1: To the Fifteenth Century (Harmondsworth: Penguin, [1961] 1968) p. 238.
See the wretch that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again: The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.
thomas gray— Line 41. (Ode on the Pleasure Arising from Vicissitude (1754))
The smallest effort is not lost, Each wavelet on the ocean tost Aids in the ebb-tide or the flow; Each rain-drop makes some floweret blow; Each struggle lessens human woe.
charles mackay— Charles Mackay, The Old and the New, Voices from the Crowd, and Town Lyrics (1857).
The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast; And the woods, against a stormy sky, Their giant branches tost.
felicia hemans— Felicia Hemans, Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers.
I dropped my pen; and listened to the wind That sang of trees uptorn and vessels tost; A midnight harmony and wholly lost To the general sense of men by chains confined Of business, care, or pleasure, or resigned To timely sleep.
— William Wordsworth, sonnet composed while the author was engaged in writing a tract occasioned by the Convention of Cintra.
