Page:Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922).djvu/606

 568 OCEAN OCTOBER

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{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = Rocked in the cradle of the deep, I lay me down in peace to sleep. Emma Willard—The Cradle of the Deep. I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea. Wordsworth—The Excursion. Bk. IV. | seealso = (See also {{sc|Hamilton) Ocean into tempest wrought, To waft a feather, or to drown a fly. Young—Night Thoughts. Night I. L. 153. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 568 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = In chambers deep, Where waters sleep, What unknown treasures pave the floor. Young—Ocean. St. 24. | seealso = (See also {{sc|Gray) OCTOBER October turned my maple's leaves to gold; The most are gone now; here and there one lingers; Soon these will slip from out the twig's weak hold, Like coins between a dying miser's fingers. T. B. Aujrich—Maple Leaves. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 568 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, And the year smiles as it draws near its death. Bryant—October. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 568 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = The sweet calm sunshine of- October, now Warms the low spot; upon its grassy mould The purple oak-leaf falls; the birchen bough Drops its bright spoil like arrow-heads of gold. Bryant—October. (1866) | topic = | page = 568 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir: We must rise and follow her, When from every hill of flame She calls, and calls each vagabond by name. Bliss Carman—Vagabond Song. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 568 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = Is it the shrewd October wind Brings the tears into her eyes? Does it blow so strong that she must fetch Her breath in sudden sighs? W. D. Howells—Gone. October's foliage yellows with his cold. Rusktn—The Months. No clouds are in the morning sky, The vapors hug the stream, Who says that life and love can die In all this northern gleam? At every turn the maples burn, The quail is whistling free, The partridge whirs, and the frosted burs Are dropping for you and me. Ho! hillyho! heigh O! Hillyho! In the clear October morning. E. C. Stedman—Autumn Song. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 568 }}

{{Hoyt quote | num = | text = And close at hand, the basket stood With nuts from brown October's wood. Whittier—Snow-bound. | author = | work = | place = | note = | topic = | page = 568 }}