And yet We lost it in this daily jar and fret, And now live idle in a vague regret
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERRelated Topics
Anand Thakur
And yet We lost it in this daily jar and fret, And now live idle in a vague regret
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERNo star is ever lost we once have seen, We always may be what we might have been.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERDreams grow holy put in action; work grows fair through starry dreaming,
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERSeated one day at the organ
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERI know too well the poison and the sting of things too sweet.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERHark! the hours are softly calling Bidding Spring arise To listen to the rain-drops falling From the cloudy skies
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERKinds hearts are here; yet would the tenderest one Have limits to its mercy; God has none.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERWe always may be what we might have been.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERDo not look at life’s long sorrow; see how small each moment’s pain.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERThe men are much alarmed by certain speculations about women; and well they may be
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERSome pure ideal of a noble life That once seemed possible?
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTEROne of these lives is a fancy, But the other one is true.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERHalf my life is full of sorrow, Half of joy, still fresh and new
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERBe strong, O Heart of mine, Look towards the light!
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERI do not ask, O Lord, that life may be a pleasant road.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTERHours are golden links, God’s token Reaching heaven; but one by one Take them
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER