THE SONNE.

LET forrain nations of their language boast,
What fine varietie each tongue affords:
I like our language, as our men and coast;
Who cannot dresse it well, want wit, not words.
How neatly do we give one onely name
To parents issue and the sunnes bright starre!
A sonne is light and fruit; a fruitfull flame
Chasing the fathers dimnesse, carri’d far
From the first man in th’ East, to fresh and new
Western discov’ries of posteritie.
So in one word our Lord’s humilitie
We turn upon him in a sense most true :
For what Christ once in humblenesse began,
We him in glorie call, The Sonne of Man.

George Herbert, b. 1593.

Yes, Praise Him in English!

Washington Irving, b. 1783. “Rip van Winkle, however, was one of those happy mortals, of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take the world easy, eat white bread or brown, whichever can be got with least thought and trouble, and would rather starve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to himself, he would have whistled his life away in perfect contentment . . .
I think I know someone with this sort of disposition, but can a lazy, happy fellow like this survive these days?

Edward Everett Hale, b. 1822. Author of the classic short story, The Man Without a Country.

John Burroughs, b. 1837. “I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see.” Don’t we all?