Daniel Webster

  • If stores of dry and learnèd lore we gain,
    We keep them in the memory of the brain;
    Names, things, and facts,—whate’er we knowledge call,—
    There is the common ledger for them all;
    And images on this cold surface traced
    Make slight impression, and are soon...

  • My son, thou wast my heart’s delight,
      Thy morn of life was gay and cheery;
    That morn has rushed to sudden night,
      Thy father’s house is sad and dreary.

    I held thee on my knee, my son!
      And kissed thee laughing, kissed thee weeping;
    But ah!...