See how time makes all grief decay.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERRelated Topics
Anand Thakur
See how time makes all grief decay.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERWe always may be what we might have been.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERWith heaven’s light upon their wings:Every word has its own spirit
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERLest the chain be broken Ere the pilgrimage be done.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERFor when the horse and ass begin to think and argue, adieu to riding and driving.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERI was weary and ill at ease, and my fingers wandered idly over the noisy keys.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERSeated one day at the organ
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERHours are golden links, God’s token Reaching heaven; but one by one Take them
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERBut still our place is kept, and it will wait, Ready for us to fill it, soon or late.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERKinds hearts are here; yet would the tenderest one Have limits to its mercy; God has none.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERThe men are much alarmed by certain speculations about women; and well they may be
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERJoy is like restless day; but peace divine like quiet night.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERDreams grow holy put in action.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTEREvery word man’s lips have uttered Echoes in God’s skies.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERIt seemed the harmonious echo from our discordant life.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERNo star is ever lost we once have seen, We always may be what we might have been.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER