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Quotes by Bayard Taylor
Shrimps and the delicate periwinkle Such are the sea-fruits lasses love: Ho! to your nets till the blue stars twinkle, And the shutterless cottages gleam above!— filed under Angling
I know I am-that simplest bliss The millions of my brothers miss. I know the fortune to be born, Even to the meanest wretch they scorn.— filed under Bliss
Fame is what you have taken, Character's what you give; When to this truth you waken, Then you begin to live. C.— filed under Character
The hearts that dare are quick to feel; The hands that wound are soft to heal.— filed under Character
But still I dream that somewhere there must be The spirit of a child that waits for me. C.— filed under Childhood
Bathed in the tenderest purple of distance, Tinted and shadowed by pencils of air, Thy battlements hang o'er the slopes and the forests, Seats of the gods in the limitless ether, Looming sublimely aloft and afar.— filed under Clouds
Death is not rare, alas! nor burials few, And soon the grassy coverlet of God Spreads equal green above their ashes pale.— filed under Death
Poems of Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Sometimes an hour of Fate's serenest weather Strikes through our changeful sky its com ing beams; Somewhere above us, in elusive ether, Waits the fulfilment of our dearest dreams.— filed under Faults
Primrose-eyes each morning ope In their cool, deep beds of grass; Violets make the air that pass Tell-tales of their fragrant slope.— filed under Flirting
The amorous odors of the moveless air, - Jasmine and tuberose and gillyflower, Carnation, heliotrope, and purpling shower Of Persian roses.— filed under Flirting
Blossoms. Aquilegia. Aquilegia Canadensis. The aquilegia sprinkled on the rocks A scarlet rain; the yellow violet Sat in the chariot of its leaves; the phlox Held spikes of purple flame in meadows wet, And all the streams with vernal-scented reed Were fringed, and streaky bells of miskodeed.— filed under Flowers-Apple Blossoms
at Midsummer. The hollows are heavy and dank With the steam of the Goldenrods.— filed under Flowers-Forget-Me-Not
But who will watch my lilies, When their blossoms open white? By day the sun shall be sentry, And the moon and the stars by night!— filed under Flowers-Lily
Song. Around the pillars of the palm-tree bower The orchids cling, in rose and purple spheres; Shield-broad the lily floats; the aloe flower Foredates its hundred years.— filed under Flowers-Pansy
Pansies in soft April rains Fill their stalks with honeyed sap Drawn from Earth's prolific lap.— filed under Flowers-Pansy
And far and wide, in a scarlet tide, The poppy's bonfire spread.— filed under Flowers-Poppy
And half in shade and half in sun; The Rose sat in her bower, With a passionate thrill in her crimson heart.— filed under Flowers-Rose
A waft from the roadside bank Tells where the wild rose nods.— filed under Flowers-Rosemary
S. Bk. XVIII. Ch. V. Pardon, not wrath, is God's best attribute.— filed under Fortune
'Twas glory once to be a Roman; She makes it glory, now, to be a man.— filed under Glory
Knowledge alone is the being of Nature, Giving a soul to her manifold features, Lighting through paths of the primitive darkness, The footsteps of Truth and the vision of Song.— filed under Knowledge
Learn to live, and live to learn, Ignorance like a fire doth burn, Little tasks make large return.— filed under Leisure
Shelved around us lie The mummied authors.— filed under Libraries
For life lives only in success.— filed under Life
Our life is scarce the twinkle of a star In God's eternal day.— filed under Life
For love's humility is Love's true pride.— filed under Love
Third Evening. The Mother. I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die Till the sun grows cold, And the stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!— filed under Love
Love better is than Fame.— filed under Love
Love's history, as Life's, is ended not By marriage.— filed under Love
With rushing winds and gloomy skies The dark and stubborn Winter dies: Far-off, unseen, Spring faintly cries, Bidding her earliest child arise; March!— filed under Months-April
When May, with cowslip-braided locks, Walks through the land in green attire. And burns in meadow-grass the phlox His torch of purple fire: * * * * * * And when the punctual May arrives, With cowslip-garland on her brow, We know what once she gave our lives, And cannot give us now!— filed under Months-June
Dead is the air, and still! the leaves of the locust and walnut Lazily hang from the boughs, inlaying their intricate outlines Rather on space than the sky, on a tideless expansion of slumber.— filed under Months-July
Wrapped in his sad-colored cloak, the Day, like a Puritan, standeth Stern in the joyless fields, rebuking the lingering color,- Dying hectic of leaves and the chilly blue of the asters,一 Hearing, perchance, the croak of a crow on the desolate tree-top.— filed under Months-November
And yonder fly his scattered golden arrows, And smite the hills with day.— filed under Morning
Third Evening. Morning. Now the frosty stars are gone: I have watched them one by one, Fading on the shores of Dawn. Round and full the glorious sun Walks with level step the spray, Through his vestibule of Day.— filed under Morning
Sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest Your truth and valor wearing: The bravest are the tenderest, - The loving are the daring.— filed under Occupations-Navigation
We follow and race In shifting chase, Over the boundless ocean-space! Who hath beheld when the race begun? Who shall behold it run?— filed under Opinion
True Grandeur of Nations. Peace the offspring is of Power.— filed under Peace
Victor Hugo. L'Année Terrible. The Poet's leaves are gathered one by one, In the slow process of the doubtful years.— filed under Poets
Sheaves. Believing Prayer. To pray together, in whatever tongue or ritual, is the most tender brotherhood of hope and sympathy that men can contract in this life. MADAME DE STAËL Corinne. Bk. X. Ch. V. Labor, you know, is Prayer. S.— filed under Prayer
And rest, that strengthens unto virtuous deeds, Is one with Prayer.— filed under Results
(See Keats' Poems.) Mysterious Flood, -that through the silent sands Hast wandered, century on century, Watering the length of great Egyptian lands, Which were not, but for thee.— filed under Rivers-Potomac
Alone each heart must cover up its dead; Alone, through bitter toil, achieve its rest.— filed under Solitude
They sang of love and not of fame; Forgot was Britain's glory; Each heart recalled a different name, But all sang "Annie Laurie."— filed under Song
Because the gift of Song was chiefly lent, To give consoling music for the joys We lack, and not for those which we possess.— filed under Sorrow
Each separate star Seems nothing, but a myriad scattered stars Break up the Night, and make it beautiful.— filed under Stars
There may come a day Which crowns Desire with gift, and Art with truth, And Love with bliss, and Life with wiser youth!— filed under Success
The woods appear With crimson blotches deeply dashed and crossed,- Sign of the fatal pestilence of Frost.— filed under Treason
Next to thee, O fair gazelle, O Beddowee girl, beloved so well; Next to the fearless Nedjidee, Whose fleetness shall bear me again to thee; Next to ye both I love the Palm, With his leaves of beauty, his fruit of balm; Next to ye both I love the Tree Whose fluttering shadow wraps us three With love, and silence, and mystery!— filed under Trees And Plants-Palm
Ancient Pines, Ye bear no record of the years of man. Spring is your sole historian.— filed under Trees And Plants-Palm
Monterey. Stately Pines, But few more years around the promontory Your chant will meet the thunders of the sea.— filed under Trees And Plants-Palm
Sheaves. The First Lesson. By Wisdom wealth is won; But riches purchased wisdom yet for none.— filed under Wisdom
"The Prophet's words were true; The mouth of Ali is the golden door Of Wisdom." When his friends to Ali bore These words, he smiled and said: "And should they ask The same until my dying day, the task Were easy; for the stream from Wisdom's well, Which God supplies, is inexhaustible."— filed under Wisdom
Higher than the perfect song For which love longeth, Is the tender fear of wrong, That never wrongeth.— filed under Wrongs