The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations Preface

‘The Scholar-Gipsy’ (1853) l. 74
Rapt, twirling in thy hand a withered spray,
And waiting for the spark from heaven to fall.
‘The Scholar-Gipsy’ (1853) l. 119
The line of festal light in Christ-Church hall.
‘The Scholar-Gipsy’ (1853) l. 129
Thou waitest for the spark from heaven! and we,
Light half-believers in our casual creeds...
Who hesitate and falter life away,
And lose to-morrow the ground won to-day—
Ah, do not we, Wanderer, await it too?
‘The Scholar-Gipsy’ (1853) l. 171
O born in days when wits were fresh and clear,
And life ran gaily as the sparkling Thames;
Before this strange disease of modern life,
With its sick hurry, its divided aims,
Its heads o’ertaked, its palsied hearts, was rife—
Fly hence, our contact fear!
‘The Scholar-Gipsy’ (1853) l. 201
Still nursing the unconquerable hope,
Still clutching the inviolable shade.
‘The Scholar-Gipsy’ (1853) l. 211
Resolve to be thyself: and know, that he
Who finds himself, loses his misery.
‘Self-Dependence’ (1852) l. 31
Others abide our question. Thou art free.
We ask and ask: Thou smilest and art still,
Out-topping knowledge.
‘Shakespeare’ (1849)
And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know,
Self-schooled, self-scanned, self-honoured, self-secure,
Didst tread on Earth unguessed at.—Better so!
All pains the immortal spirit must endure,
All weakness which impairs, all griefs which bow,
Find their sole speech in that victorious brow.
‘Shakespeare’ (1849)
Curled minion, dancer, coiner of sweet words!
‘Sohrab and Rustum’ (1853) l. 458
No horse’s cry was that, most like the roar
Of some pained desert lion, who all day