he highest hill
Which rises o'er the source of Dee,
And from the eastern summit shed
Her silver light on tower and tree.
1217
JOHN LOWE: _Mary's Dream._

=Morality.=

Religion blushing, veils her sacred fires,
And unawares Morality expires.
1218
POPE: _Dunciad,_ Bk. iv., Line 649.

=Morning.=

See how the morning opes her golden gates,
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun!
How well resembles it the prime of youth,
Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love.
1219
SHAKS.: _3 Henry VI.,_ Act ii., Sc. 1.

Sweet is the breath of Morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds.
1220
MILTON: _Par. Lost,_ Bk. iv., Line 641.

Night wanes--the vapors round the mountains curl'd
Melt into morn, and light awakes the world.
1221
BYRON: _Lara,_ Canto ii., St. 1.

The moon is carried off in purple fire:
Day breaks at last.
1222
ROBERT BROWNING: _Return of the Druses,_ Act i.

Lord, in the morning thou shalt hear
My voice ascending high.
1223
WATTS: _Psalm_ v.

=Mortality.=

All, that in this world is great or gay,
Doth, as a vapor, vanish and decay.
1224
SPENSER: _Ruins of Time,_ Line 55.

We cannot hold mortality's strong hand.
1225
SHAKS.: _King John,_ Act iv., Sc. 2.

=Mother.=

A woman's love
Is mighty, but a mother's heart is weak,
And by its weakness overcomes.
1226
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL: _Legend of Brittany,_ Pt. ii., St. 43.

A mother is a mother still,
The holiest thing alive.
1227
COLERIDGE: _The Three Graves._

=Mountains.=

I know a mount, the gracious Sun perceives
First when he visits, last, too, when he leaves
The world; and, vainly favored, it repays
The day-long glory of his steadfast gaze
By no change of its large calm front of snow.
1228
ROBERT BROWNING: _Rudel To The Lady of Tripoli._

And to me
High mountains are a feeling, but the hum
Of human cities torture.
1229
BYRON: _Ch. Harold,_ Canto iii., St. 72.

=Mounting.=

I mount and mount toward the sky,
The eagle's heart is mine,
I ride to put the clouds a-by
Where silver lakelets shine.
The roaring streams wax white with snow,
The eagle's nest draws near,
The blue sky widens, hid peaks glow,
The air is frosty clear.
And so from cliff to cliff I rise,
The eagle's heart is mine;
Above me ever broadning skies,
Below the rivers shine.
1230
HAMLIN GARLAND: _Mounting._

=Mourning.=

We must all die!
All leave ourselve