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From the desert I come to thee, On a stallion shod with fire; And the winds are left behind In the speed of my desire.

Bayard Taylor

But still I dream that somewhere there must be The spirit of a child that waits for me.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Childhood Children Dream
To learn by observation is traveling, people must also bring knowledge with them.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Observation People
I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Love Old Shall You
And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens, Are singing the selfsame strain.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Pain Sea Wind
Peace the offspring is of Power.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Offspring Peace
Mock jewelry on a woman is tangible vulgarity.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Jewelry Tangible Taste
There may come a day Which crowns Desire with gift, and Art with truth, And Love with bliss, and Life with wiser youth!
BAYARD TAYLOR

Art Desire Success
Love’s humility is love’s true pride.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Humility Love Pride True
Who thinks, at night, that morn will ever be? Who knows, far out upon the central sea, That anywhere is land? And yet, a shore Has set behind us, and will rise before: A past foretells a future.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Hope Night Past
From the desert I come to thee, On a stallion shod with fire; And the winds are left behind In the speed of my desire.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Desire Fire Wind
Higher than the perfect song For which love longeth, Is the tender fear of wrong, That never wrongeth.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Higher Perfect Song
Alone each heart must cover up its dead; Alone, through bitter toil, achieve its rest.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Heart Solitude
With rushing winds and gloomy skies The dark and stubborn Winter dies: Far-off, unseen, Spring faintly cries, Bidding her earliest child arise; March!
BAYARD TAYLOR

Children Dark Spring
Swelling in anger or sparkling in glee.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Glee Ocean Swelling
The most annoying of all blockheads is a well-read fool.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Annoying Fool Wells
Women are not apt to be won by the charms of verse.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Charm Verses Wooing

From the desert I come to thee, On a stallion shod with fire; And the winds are left behind In the speed of my desire.

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From the desert I come to thee, On a stallion shod with fire; And the winds are left behind In the speed of my desire.

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