The light of other days is faded,
And all their glories past.
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The Maid of Artois (c. 1836) set to music by Michael William Balfe. Compare: "Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed", Thomas Moore, Oft in the Stilly Night.Alfred Bunn
The State is always, whatever be its form — primitive, ancient, medieval, modern — an invitation issued by one group of men to other human groups to carry out some enterprise in common. That enterprise, be its intermediate processes what they may, consists in the long run in the organisation of a certain type of common life. … [As Renan says,] "To have common glories in the past, a common will in the present; to have done great things together; to wish to do greater; these are the essential conditions which make up a people.… In the past, an inheritance of glories and regrets; in the future, one and the same programme to carry out.… The existence of a nation is a daily plebiscite."
Jose Ortega y Gasset
Glories, like glowworms, afar off shine bright,
But looked to near have neither heat nor light.John Webster
Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright,
But look'd too near have neither heat nor light.John Webster
The head must bow, and the back will have to bend,
Wherever the darkey may go;
A few more days, and the trouble all will end,
In the field where the sugar-canes grow.
A few more days for to tote the weary load,—
No matter, 't will never be light;
A few more days till we totter on the road:—
Then my old Kentucky home, good-night!Stephen Foster
In spring's own country, where the gardens blow,
You faded, tender rose! For hours now past,
Like butterflies departing, on you're cast
The worms of memories to work you woe.Adam Mickiewicz
Bunn, Alfred
Bunner, Henry Cuyler
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