I remember, I remember

The fir-trees dark and high;

I used to think their slender tops

Were close against the sky;

It was a childish ignorance,

But now 't is little joy

To know I'm farther off from heaven

Than when I was a boy.

Thomas Hood (1798-1845): I remember, I remember.

Of love that never found his earthly close,

What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts;

Or all the same as if he had not been?

Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892): Love and Duty.

At the close of the day when the hamlet is still,

And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,

When naught but the torrent is heard on the hill,

And naught but the nightingale's song in the grove.

James Beattie (1735-1803): The Hermit.

Our souls sit close and silently within,

And their own web from their own entrails spin;

And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such,

That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch.

John Dryden (1631-1701): Mariage à la Mode. Act ii. Sc. 1.

I burn to set the imprison'd wranglers free,

And give them voice and utterance once again.

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,

Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,

And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn

Throws up a steamy column, and the cups

That cheer but not inebriate wait on each,

So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

William Cowper (1731-1800): The Task. Book iv. The Winter Evening. Line 34.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,

Or close the wall up with our English dead!

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man

As modest stillness and humility;

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

Then imitate the action of the tiger:

Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Close up his eyes and draw the curtain close;

And let us all to meditation.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 3.

An honest man, close-button'd to the chin,

Broadcloth without, and a warm heart within.

William Cowper (1731-1800): Epistle to Joseph Hill.

To a close-shorn sheep God gives wind by measure.

George Herbert (1593-1632): Jacula Prudentum.