Music waves eternal wands,-- Enchantress of the souls of mortals! — Edmund Clarence Stedman Death Copy Share Image
O fresh-lit dawn! immortal life! O Earth's betrothal, sweet and true! — Edmund Clarence Stedman Dawn Copy Share Image
Genius does not need a special language; it uses newly whatever tongue it finds. — Edmund Clarence Stedman Copy Share Image
A critic must accept what is best in a poet, and thus become his best encourager. — Edmund Clarence Stedman Copy Share Image
Yes, there's a luck in most things; and in none more than being born at the right time. — Edmund Clarence Stedman Copy Share Image
Fashion is a potency in art, making it hard to judge between the temporary and the lasting. — Edmund Clarence Stedman Art Copy Share Image
The poet who does not revere his art, and believe in its sovereignty, is not born to wear the purple. — Edmund Clarence Stedman Art Copy Share Image
The poet is a creator, not an iconoclast, and never will tamely endeavor to say in prose what can only be expressed… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Creator Copy Share Image
But every human path leads on to God; He holds a myriad finer threads than gold, And strong as holy wishes, drawing… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Copy Share Image
War! war! war! Heaven aid the right! God move the hero's arm in the fearful fight! God send the women sleep in… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Copy Share Image
Alas, by what rude fate Our lives, like ships at sea, an instant meet, Then part forever on their courses fleet. — Edmund Clarence Stedman Copy Share Image
Lo, as I gaze, the statured man, Built up from you large hand appears: A type that nature wills to plan But… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Copy Share Image
The weary August days are long; The locusts sing a plaintive song, The cattle miss their master's call When they see the… — Edmund Clarence Stedman August Copy Share Image
Look on this cast, and know the hand That bore a nation in its hold; From this mute witness understand What Lincoln… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Copy Share Image
Let the winds blow! a fiercer gale Is wild within me! what may quell That sullen tempest? I must sail Whither, O… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Copy Share Image
Is there a rarer being, Is there a fairer sphere Where the strong are not unseeing, And the harvests are not sere;… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Copy Share Image
No, he was no such charlatan-- Count de Hoboken Flash-in-the-Pan-- Full of gasconade and bravado, But a regular, rich Don Rataplane, Santa… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Bravado Copy Share Image
Progress comes by experiment, and this from ennui that leads to voyages, wars, revolutions, and plainly to change in the arts of… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Art Copy Share Image
No clouds are in the morning sky, The vapors hug the stream, Who says that life and love can die In all… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Copy Share Image
Give us a man of God's own mould Born to marshall his fellow-men; One whose fame is not bought and sold At… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Abraham Copy Share Image
Whither away, Bluebird, Whither away? The blast is chill, yet in the upper sky Thou still canst find the color of thy… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Copy Share Image
Worth, courage, honor, these indeed Your sustenance and birthright are. — Edmund Clarence Stedman Birthright Copy Share Image
Men are egotists, and not all tolerant of one man's selfhood; they do not always deem the amities elective. — Edmund Clarence Stedman Amity Copy Share Image
Above the clouds I lift my wing To hear the bells of Heaven ring; Some of their music, though my fights be… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Above the clouds Copy Share Image
Do your heart and head keep pace? When does hoary Love expire, When do frosts put out the fire? Can its embers… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Copy Share Image
Natural emotion is the soul of poetry, as melody is of music; the same faults are engendered by over-study of either art;… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Art Copy Share Image
Poetry is an art, and chief of the fine art; the easiest to dabble in, the hardest in which to reach true… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Art Copy Share Image
The critic's first labor is the task of distinguishing between men, as history and their works display them, and the ideals which… — Edmund Clarence Stedman Acceptance Copy Share Image
