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 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.
More Bayard Taylor Quotes
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Sometimes an hour of Fate’s serenest weather Strikes through our changeful sky its coming beams; Somewhere above us, in elusive ether, Waits the fulfilment of our dearest dreams.
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Pansies in soft April rains Fill their stalks with honeyed sap Drawn from Earth’s prolific lap.
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And far and wide, in a scarlet tide, The poppy’s bonfire spread.
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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.
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Melrose is the finest remaining specimen of Gothic architecture in Scotland. Some of the sculptured flowers in the cloister arches are remarkably beautiful and delicate, and the two windows – the south and east oriels – are of a lightness and grace of execution really surprising.
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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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London has the advantage of one of the most gloomy atmospheres in the world.
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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.
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Wrapped in his sad-colored cloak, the Day, like a Puritan, standeth Stern in the joyless fields, rebuking the lingering color,– Dying hectic of leaves and the chilly blue of the asters,– Hearing, perchance, the croak of a crow on the desolate tree-top.
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By wisdom wealth is won; but riches purchased wisdom yet for none.
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Mock jewelry on a woman is tangible vulgarity.
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I know I am–that simplest bliss The millions of my brothers miss. I know the fortune to be born, Even to the meanest wretch they scorn.
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The 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.
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The maxims tell you to aim at perfection, which is well; but it’s unattainable, all the same.
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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