Related:

• This bank-note world. -- Fitz-Greene Halleck (1790-1867) -- Alnwick Castle
• One of the few, the immortal names, That were not born to die.
  -- Fitz-Greene Halleck (1790-1867) -- Marco Bozzari...
• There is an evening twilight of the heart, When its wild passion-waves are lulled to rest.
  -- Fitz-Greene Halleck (1790-1867) -- Twiligh...
• Strike--for your altars and your fires! Strike--for the green graves of your sires!
  God, and your native land! -- Fitz-Greene Halleck (1790-1867) -- Marco Bozzari...
• Such graves as his are pilgrim shrines, Shrines to no code or creed confined,-- The Delphian vales, the Palestines, The Meccas of the mind.
  -- Fitz-Greene Halleck (1790-1867) -- Bu...
• But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word
  And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be....
• Green be the turf above thee, Friend of my better days!
  None knew thee but to love thee, Nor named thee but to praise....
• They love their land because it is their own, And scorn to give aught other reason why
  Would shake hands with a king upon his throne, And think it kindness to his Majesty....
• A lord as black as coal And the red kittens whip him. A pot on the fire.