=Soul.=

But whither went his soul, let such relate Who search the secrets of the future state. 1772 DRYDEN:  Palamon and Arcite, Bk. iii., Line 2120.

It is the Soul’s prerogative, its fate To shape the outward to its own estate. 1773 R.H.  DANA:  Thoughts on the Soul.

The gods approve The depth, and not the tumult, of the soul. 1774 WORDSWORTH:  Laodamia.

=Sound.=

’T is not enough no harshness gives offence,—­ The sound must seem an echo to the sense. 1775 POPE:  E. on Criticism, Pt. ii., Line 162.

=Spain.=

Fair land! of chivalry the old domain,
Land of the vine and olive, lovely Spain!
1776
MRS. HEMANS:  Abencerrage, Canto ii., Line 1.

=Spear.=

His spear, to equal which the tallest pine
Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast
Of some great ammiral were but a wand.
1777
MILTON:  Par.  Lost, Bk. i., Line 292.

=Speech.=

Rude am I in my speech
And little bless’d with the soft phrase of peace.
1778
SHAKS.:  Othello, Act i., Sc. 3.

Speech is but broken light upon the depth
Of the unspoken; even your loved words
Float in the larger meaning of your voice
As something dimmer.
1779
GEORGE ELIOT:  Spanish Gypsy, Bk. 1.

=Spenser.=

Nor shall my verse that elder bard forget,
The gentle Spenser, fancy’s pleasing son;
Who, like a copious river, poured his song
O’er all the mazes of enchanted ground.
1780
THOMSON:  Seasons, Summer, Line 1574.

=Spires.=

Ye swelling hills and spacious plains!  Besprent from shore to shore with steeple towers, And spires whose “silent finger points to heaven.” 1781 WORDSWORTH:  Excursion, Bk. vi., Line 17.

=Spirits.=

I can call spirits from the vasty deep. 
Why, so can I; or so can any man: 
But will they come, when you do call for them?
1782
SHAKS.:  1 Henry IV., Act iii., Sc. 1.

Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep. 1783 MILTON:  Par.  Lost, Bk. iv., Line 677.

=Splendor.=

Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower. 1784 WORDSWORTH:  Intimations of Immortality, St. 10.

=Sport.=

Thick around
Thunders the sport of those, who with the gun
And dog, impatient bounding at the shot,
Worse than the season desolate the fields.
1785
THOMSON:  Seasons, Winter, Line 788.

=Spring.=

In the spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish’d dove; In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love. 1786 TENNYSON:  Locksley Hall, Line 19.

Come, gentle Spring, ethereal mildness, come;
And from the bosom of your dropping cloud,
While music wakes around, veiled in a shower
Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend.
1787
THOMSON:  Seasons, Spring, Line 1.