Edward Coote Pinkney

Edward Coote Pinkney (October 1, 1802 – April 11, 1828) was an American poet, lawyer, sailor, professor, and editor.

Quotes

 * I fill this cup to one made up Of loveliness alone, A woman, of her gentle sex The seeming paragon; To whom the better elements And kindly stars have given A form so fair, that, like the air, 'Tis less of earth than heaven.
 * A Health, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).


 * Her every tone is music's own, Like those of morning birds, And something more than melody Dwells ever in her words.
 * A Health, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).


 * Look out upon the stars, my love, And shame them with thine eyes.
 * A Serenade, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).


 * The sportive hopes that used to chase their shifting shadows on, Like children playing in the sun, are gone—for ever gone; And on a careless, sullen peace, my double-fronted mind, Like Janus, when his gates are shut, looks forward and behind. Apollo placed his harp, of old, awhile upon a stone, Which has resounded since, when struck, a breaking harp string's tone; And thus my heart, though wholly now from early softness free, If touch'd, will yield the music yet, it first received of thee.
 * A Picture Song.


 * The winds are awed, nor dare to breathe aloud; The air seems never to have borne a cloud, Save where volcanoes send to heav'n their curl'd And solemn smokes, like altars of the world.
 * Italy (1825).