A sacred burden is this life ye bear:

Look on it, lift it, bear it solemnly,

Stand up and walk beneath it steadfastly.

Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin,

But onward, upward, till the goal ye win.

Wendell Phillips (1811-1884): Lines addressed to the Young Gentlemen leaving the Lenox Academy, Mass.

The chamber where the good man meets his fate

Is privileg'd beyond the common walk

Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven.

Edward Young (1684-1765): Night thoughts. Night ii. Line 633.

Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth

Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 677.

Like one that on a lonesome road

Doth walk in fear and dread,

And having once turned round walks on,

And turns no more his head,

Because he knows a frightful fiend

Doth close behind him tread.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834): The Ancient Mariner. Part vi.

And ye sall walk in silk attire,

And siller hae to spare,

Gin ye 'll consent to be his bride,

Nor think o' Donald mair.

Susanna Blamire (1747-1794): The Siller Croun.

"Will you walk into my parlour?" said a spider to a fly;

"'T is the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy."

Mary Howitt (1804-1888): The Spider and the Fly.

Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutor'd mind

Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;

His soul proud Science never taught to stray

Far as the solar walk or milky way.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): Essay on Man. Epistle i. Line 99.

But Shakespeare's magic could not copied be;

Within that circle none durst walk but he.

John Dryden (1631-1701): The Tempest. Prologue.

The chamber where the good man meets his fate

Is privileg'd beyond the common walk

Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven.

Edward Young (1684-1765): Night thoughts. Night ii. Line 633.

And seem to walk on wings, and tread in air.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): The Iliad of Homer. Book xiii. Line 106.

Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth

Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep.

John Milton (1608-1674): Paradise Lost. Book iv. Line 677.

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world

Like a Colossus, and we petty men

Walk under his huge legs and peep about

To find ourselves dishonourable graves.

Men at some time are masters of their fates:

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,

But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Julius Caesar. Act i. Sc. 2.

She is pretty to walk with,

And witty to talk with,

And pleasant, too, to think on.

Sir John Suckling (1609-1641): Brennoralt. Act ii.