Quotes about fife, page 2
An Evening Dream
I'm leaning where you loved to lean in eventides of old,
The sun has sunk an hour ago behind the treeless wold,
In this old oriel that we loved how oft I sit forlorn,
Gazing, gazing, up the vale of green and waving corn.
The summer corn is in the ear, thou knowest what I see
Up the long wide valley, and from seldom tree to tree,
The serried corn, the serried corn, the green and serried corn,
From the golden morn till night, from the moony night till morn.
I love it, morning, noon, and night, in sunshine and in rain,
For being here it seems to say, 'The lost come back again.'
And being here as green and fair as those old fields we knew,
It says, 'The lost when they come back, come back unchanged and true.'
But more than at the shout of morn, or in the sleep of noon,
Smiling with a smiling star, or wan beneath a wasted moon,
I love it, soldier brother! at this weird dim hour, for then
The serried ears are swords and spears, and the fields are fields of men.
Rank on rank in faultless phalanx stern and still I can discern,
Phalanx after faultless phalanx in dumb armies still and stern;
Army on army, host on host, till the bannered nations stand,
As the dead may stand for judgment silent on the o'erpeopled land.
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poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Marmion: Canto IV. - The Camp
I.
Eustace, I said, did blithely mark
The first notes of the merry lark.
The lark sang shrill, the cock he crew,
And loudly Marmion's bugles blew,
And with their light and lively call,
Brought groom and yeoman to the stall.
Whistling they came, and free of heart,
But soon their mood was changed;
Complaint was heard on every part,
Of something disarranged.
Some clamoured loud for armour lost;
Some brawled and wrangled with the host;
'By Becket's bones,' cried one, 'I fear
That some false Scot has stol'n my spear!'
Young Blount, Lord Marmion's second squire,
Found his steed wet with sweat and mire;
Although the rated horse-boy sware,
Last night he dressed him sleek and fair.
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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Talking Oak
Once more the gate behind me falls;
Once more before my face
I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls,
That stand within the chace.
Beyond the lodge the city lies,
Beneath its drift of smoke;
And ah! with what delighted eyes
I turn to yonder oak.
For when my passion first began,
Ere that, which in me burn'd,
The love, that makes me thrice a man,
Could hope itself return'd;
To yonder oak within the field
I spoke without restraint,
And with a larger faith appeal'd
Than Papist unto Saint.
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poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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One of my great influences was Don Knotts as Barney Fife.
quote by Martin Short
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The more excited the rooster gets, the higher his voice goes. He's got a little bit of a Barney Fife quality to him.
quote by Jeff Foxworthy
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From there I did a one year theatre acting course in Fife, and then three years of drama school in London.
quote by Ewan McGregor
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Answer
Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!
To all the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Sound, Sound the Clarion
Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!
To all the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife,
Throughout the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life,
Is worth an age without name.
quote by Thomas Osbert Mordaunt
Added by Lucian Velea
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What Shall I Rhyme With My Life?
shall i rhyme my life with a fife?
nope
or with a fyfe?
nope
or a greiff, rife, slife, streiff, ?
no, no, no.
what about a strife?
definitely not.
i rhyme my life
with my wife
and not with the knife.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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