| Author |
Quotes |
| Alexander Pope | Now scantier limits the proud arch confine, And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or Rhine, A small Euphrates thro' the piece is roll'd, And little eagles wave their wings in gold. |
| Alexander Pope | Where stray ye, Muses! in what lawn or grove, . . . . In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides, Or else where Cam his winding vales divides? |
| Andrew Park | How sweet to move at summer's eve By Clyde's meandering stream, When Sol in joy is seen to leave The earth with crimson beam; When islands that wandered far Above his sea couch lie, And here and there some gem-like star Re-opes its sparkling eye. |
| Alexander Pope | Now scantier limits the proud arch confine, And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or Rhine; A small Euphrates thro' the piece is roll'd, And little eagles wave their wings in gold. |
| Alexander Pope | Where stray ye, Muses! in what lawn or grove, . . . . In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides, Or else where Cam his winding vales divides? |
| Charles Kingsley | "O Mary, go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, Across the sands o' Dee;" The western wind was wild and dank wi' foam And all alone went she. |
| Christopher Marlowe | By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodies birds sing madrigals. |
| Euripides | The fountains of sacred rivers flow upwards (i.e., everything is turned topsy turvy.) |
| Izaak Walton | I love any discourse of rivers, and fish and fishing. |
| John Dyer | And see the rivers how they run Through woods and meads, in shade and sun, Sometimes swift, sometimes slow,-- Wave succeeding wave, they go A various journey to the deep, Like human life to endless sleep! |
| John Tait | Flow on, lovely Dee, flow on, thou sweet river, Thy banks' purest stream shall be dear to me ever. |
| Joseph Rodman Drake | Yet I will look upon thy face again, My own romantic Bronx, and it will be A face more pleasant than the face of men. Thy waves are old companions, I shall see A well remembered form in each old tree And hear a voice long loved in thy wild minstrelsy? |
| Mark Akenside | At last the Muses rose, . . . And scattered, . . . as they flew, Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's bowers To Arno's myrtle border. |
| Nicholas Vachel Lindsay | Then I saw the Congo, creeping through the black, Cutting through the jungle with a golden track. |
| Norman Fitzroy Maclean | On the Big Blackfoot River above the mouth of Belmont Creek the banks are fringed by large Ponderosa pines. In the slanting sun of late afternoon the shadows of great branches reached across the river, and the trees took the river in their arms. |
| Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | Two ways the rivers Leap down to different seas, and as they roll Grow deep and still, and their majestic presence Becomes a benefaction to the towns They visit, wandering silently among them, Like patriarchs old among their shining tents. |
| Robert Burns | Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes! My peace with these, my love with those. The bursting tears my heart declare, Farewell, the bonnie banks of Ayr. |
| Robert Burns | Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise. |
| Robert Burns | Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green, The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar Twined amorous round the raptures scene. |
| Samuel Taylor Coleridge | In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree, Where Alph, the sacred river ran, Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. |
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