Did you ever hear Of the frolic fairies dear? They're a blessed little race, Peeping up in fancy's face, In the valley, on the hill, By the fountain and the rill; Laughing out between the leaves That the loving summer weaves.
Did you ever hear Of the frolic fairies dear? They're a blessed little race, Peeping up in fancy's face, In the valley, on the hill, By the fountain … - Frances Sargent Osgood
Did you ever hear Of the frolic fairies dear? They're a blessed little race, Peeping up in fancy's face, In the valley, on the hill, By the fountain …
- Frances Sargent Osgood
Love is the greatest of educators. - Frances Sargent Osgood
Love is the greatest of educators.
Better confide and be deceiv'd, A thousand times, by treacherous foes, Than once accuse the innocent, Or let suspicion mar repose. - Frances Sargent Osgood
Better confide and be deceiv'd, A thousand times, by treacherous foes, Than once accuse the innocent, Or let suspicion mar repose.
Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping willow; work with a stout heart and resolute will. - Frances Sargent Osgood
Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping willow; work with a stout heart and resolute will.
He whom nature thus bereaves, Is ever fancy's favourite child; For thee enchanted dreams she weaves Of changeful beauty, bright and wild. - Frances Sargent Osgood
He whom nature thus bereaves, Is ever fancy's favourite child; For thee enchanted dreams she weaves Of changeful beauty, bright and wild.
And yet we check and chide The airy angels as they float about us, With rules of so-called wisdom, till they grow The same tame slaves to custom and … - Frances Sargent Osgood
And yet we check and chide The airy angels as they float about us, With rules of so-called wisdom, till they grow The same tame slaves to custom and …
Within the oyster's shell uncouth The purest pearl may hide, Trust me you'll find a heart of truth Within that rough outside. - Frances Sargent Osgood
Within the oyster's shell uncouth The purest pearl may hide, Trust me you'll find a heart of truth Within that rough outside.
An exile, ill in heart and frame,-- A wanderer, weary of the way;-- A stranger, without love's sweet claim On any heart, go where I may! - Frances Sargent Osgood
An exile, ill in heart and frame,-- A wanderer, weary of the way;-- A stranger, without love's sweet claim On any heart, go where I may!
With strength to meet sorrow, and faith to endure - Frances Sargent Osgood
With strength to meet sorrow, and faith to endure
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