WIST

When streams of unkindness, as bitter as gall,
Bubble up from the heart to the tongue,
And Meekness is writhing in torment and thrall,
By the hands of Ingratitude wrung, —
In the heat of injustice, unwept and unfair,
While the anguish is festering yet,
None, none but an angel or God can declare
“I now can forgive and forget.”

Martin Farquhar Tupper (1810-1889) English poet
“Forgive and Forget,” l. 1-8, Ballads for the Times (1851)

Yet men, scanning the surface, count the wicked happy; [...]
They see not the frightful dreams that crowd a bad man’s pillow.

Martin Farquhar Tupper (1810-1889) English poet
“Of Compensation,” Proverbial Philosophy (1838-1849)
Full text.

Well-timed silence hath more eloquence than speech.

Martin Farquhar Tupper (1810-1889) English poet
“Of Discretion,” Proverbial Philosophy (1838-1849)

Error is a hardy plant; it flourisheth in every soil;
In the heart of the wise and good, alike with the wicked and foolish;
For there is no error so crooked, but it hath in it some lines of truth;
Nor is any poison so deadly, that it serveth not some wholesome use.

Martin Farquhar Tupper (1810-1889) English poet
“Of Truth in Things False,” Proverbial Philosophy (1838-49)

I am not old, — I cannot be old,
Though threescore years and ten
Have wasted away, like a tale that is told,
The lives of other men:
I am not old; though friends and foes
Alike have gone to their graves,
And left me alone to my joys or my woes,
As a rock in the midst of the waves.

Martin Farquhar Tupper (1810-1889) English poet
“The Song of Seventy,” A Thousand Lines (1846)