Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labour and to wait.

Henry W Longfellow (1807-1882): A Psalm of Life.

Still an angel appear to each lover beside,

But still be a woman to you.

Thomas Parnell (1679-1717): When thy Beauty appears.

A peace above all earthly dignities,

A still and quiet conscience.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Yet sometimes, when the secret cup

Of still and serious thought went round,

It seemed as if he drank it up,

He felt with spirit so profound.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): Matthew.

With grave

Aspect he rose, and in his rising seem'd

A pillar of state; deep on his front engraven

Deliberation sat, and public care;

And princely counsel in his face yet shone,

Majestic though in ruin: sage he stood,

With Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear

The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look

Drew audience and attention still as night

Or summer's noontide air.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book ii. Line 300.

Softly sweet, in Lydian measures,

Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.

War, he sung, is toil and trouble;

Honour but an empty bubble;

Never ending, still beginning,

Fighting still, and still destroying.

If all the world be worth the winning,

Think, oh think it worth enjoying:

Lovely Thais sits beside thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee.

John Dryden (1631-1701): Alexander's Feast. Line 97.

Softly sweet, in Lydian measures,

Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.

War, he sung, is toil and trouble;

Honour but an empty bubble;

Never ending, still beginning,

Fighting still, and still destroying.

If all the world be worth the winning,

Think, oh think it worth enjoying:

Lovely Thais sits beside thee,

Take the good the gods provide thee.

John Dryden (1631-1701): Alexander's Feast. Line 97.

Still govern thou my song,

Urania, and fit audience find, though few.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book vii. Line 30.

Still harping on my daughter.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Hamlet. Act ii. Sc. 2.

As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean

Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see,

So deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion,

Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee.

As still to the star of its worship, though clouded,

The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea,

So dark when I roam in this wintry world shrouded,

The hope of my spirit turns trembling to Thee.

Thomas Moore (1779-1852): The Heart's Prayer.

But hearing oftentimes

The still, sad music of humanity.

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey.

The still small voice of gratitude.

Thomas Gray (1716-1771): Ode for Music. V. Line 8.

Still so gently o'er me stealing,

Mem'ry will bring back the feeling,

Spite of all my grief revealing,

That I love thee,—that I dearly love thee still.

Opera of La Sonnambula.

A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue

As I am glad I have not.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): King Lear. Act i. Sc. 1.

The still sowe eats up all the draffe.

John Heywood (Circa 1565): Proverbes. Part i. Chap. x.

In arguing too, the parson own'd his skill,

For e'en though vanquish'd he could argue still;

While words of learned length and thundering sound

Amaz'd the gazing rustics rang'd around;

And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew

That one small head could carry all he knew.

Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774): The Deserted Village. Line 209.

Still to be neat, still to be drest,

As you were going to a feast.

Ben Jonson (1573-1637): Epicoene; Or, the Silent Woman. Act i. Sc. 1.

From the still-vexed Bermoothes.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.