Life lives only in success.
BAYARD TAYLORLife lives only in success.
BAYARD TAYLORAnd the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens, Are singing the selfsame strain.
BAYARD TAYLORPeace the offspring is of Power.
BAYARD TAYLORHigher than the perfect song For which love longeth, Is the tender fear of wrong, That never wrongeth.
BAYARD TAYLORWith rushing winds and gloomy skies The dark and stubborn Winter dies: Far-off, unseen, Spring faintly cries, Bidding her earliest child arise; March!
BAYARD TAYLORSo far as female beauty is concerned, the Circassian women have no superiors. They have preserved in their mountain home the purity of the Grecian models, and still display the perfect physical loveliness, whose type has descended to us in the Venus de Medici.
BAYARD TAYLORVoluptuous 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 TAYLORReally,’ thought I, ‘we call Baltimore the ‘Monumental City’ for its two marble columns, and here is Edinburg with one at every street-corner!
BAYARD TAYLORLove’s humility is love’s true pride.
BAYARD TAYLORThe healing of the world is in its nameless saints. Each separate star seems nothing, but a myriad scattered stars break up the night and make it beautiful.
BAYARD TAYLORIn the glory which overhangs Palestine afar off, we imagine emotions which never come, when we tread the soil and walk over the hallowed sites.
BAYARD TAYLORThe clouds are scudding across the moon, A misty light is on the sea; The wind in the shrouds has a wintry tune, And the foam is flying free.
BAYARD TAYLORSwelling in anger or sparkling in glee.
BAYARD TAYLOREccentricity is developed monomania.
BAYARD TAYLORDeath is not rare, alas! nor burials few, And soon the grassy coverlet of God Spreads equal green above their ashes pale.
BAYARD TAYLORAbove Coblentz almost every mountain has a ruin and a legend. One feels everywhere the spirit of the past, and its stirring recollections come back upon the mind with irresistible force.
BAYARD TAYLOR