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Death is not rare, alas! nor burials few, And soon the grassy coverlet of God Spreads equal green above their ashes pale.

Bayard Taylor

Mock jewelry on a woman is tangible vulgarity.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Jewelry Tangible Taste
And rest, that strengthens unto virtuous deeds, Is one with Prayer.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Deeds Prayer Virtuous
Pansies in soft April rains Fill their stalks with honeyed sap Drawn from Earth’s prolific lap.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Earth Rain Sap
The knowledge of my sin Is half-repentance.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Half Repentance Sin
Really,’ thought I, ‘we call Baltimore the ‘Monumental City’ for its two marble columns, and here is Edinburg with one at every street-corner!
BAYARD TAYLOR

Baltimore Cities Two
By wisdom wealth is won; but riches purchased wisdom yet for none.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Rich Wealth Wisdom
We follow and race In shifting chase, Over the boundless ocean-space! Who hath beheld when the race begun? Who shall behold it run?
BAYARD TAYLOR

Ocean Running Space
The lamp you lighted in the olden time Will show you my heart’s-blood beating through the rhyme: A poet’s journal, writ in fire and tears… Then slow deliverance, with the gaps of years.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Blood Fire Heart
Could one live on the sense of beauty alone, exempt from the necessity of ‘creature comforts,’ a sea-voyage would be delightful.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Comfort Sea Voyages
Labor, you know, is prayer.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Know Labor Prayer
Although Damascus is considered the oldest city in the world, the date of its foundation going beyond tradition, there are very few relics of antiquity in or near it.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Cities Foundation World
He teaches best, Who feels the hearts of all men in his breast, And knows their strength or weakness through his own.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Experience Heart Men
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!
BAYARD TAYLOR

Moon Night Stars
London has the advantage of one of the most gloomy atmospheres in the world.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Atmosphere Country World
Voluptuous bloom and fragrance rare The summer to its rose may bring; Far sweeter to the wooing air The hidden violet of spring. Still, still that lovely ghost appears, Too fair, too pure, to bid depart; No riper love of later years Can steal its beauty from the heart.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Love Spring Summer
Departed suns their trails of splendor drew Across departed summers: whispers came From voices, long ago resolved again Into the primeval Silence, and we twain, Ghosts of our present selves, yet still the same, As in a spectral mirror wandered there.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Mirror Mirrors Self Summer Wander

Death is not rare, alas! nor burials few, And soon the grassy coverlet of God Spreads equal green above their ashes pale.

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Death is not rare, alas! nor burials few, And soon the grassy coverlet of God Spreads equal green above their ashes pale.

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Popular Authors

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