Sod Quotes - page 2
Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a musèd rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain -
To thy high requiem become a sod.
John Keats
There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
Daisies, those pearl'd Arcturi of the earth,
The constellated flower that never sets;
Faint oxlips; tender bluebells at whose birth
The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets
Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears,
When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Harry Barton: Clever sod, aren't you? I expect they think the sun shines out of you down at Oxford.
Nigel Barton. Up.
Harry Barton: What?
Nigel Barton. Up, dad. Up.
Harry Barton: Aye, and up you, too!
Nigel Barton: Everyone says 'Up at Oxford'. You come 'down' when you've finished there.
Harry Barton: Well, what's this then? Does bloody Oxford move up and down the bloody map then?
Dennis Potter
There is yet one place of shelter,
Where the foeman cannot come,
Where the summons never sounded
Of the trumpet or the drum.
There again we'll meet our children,
Who, on Flodden's trampled sod,
For their king and for their country
Rendered up their souls to God.
There shall we find rest and refuge,
With our dear departed brave;
And the ashes of the city
Be our universal grave!
W. E. Aytoun
On the same sod, where (Rapine's helpless prey,)
The plumed Indian, pin'd his life away,
Enslav'd, degraded, doom'd to vile employ,
Deploring still the rifled hive of joy,
There the poor Negro, shackled with the chain,
Rears, by his sweltering toil, the nectar'd cane;
And, wretched exile from his brighter skies,
Breathes o'er the native's grave complaining sighs,
Unconscious on what dust he treads, nor knows
Whose place he takes, whose heritage of woes.
Elizabeth Benger