black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

Alone each heart must cover up its dead; Alone, through bitter toil, achieve its rest.

Bayard Taylor

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

Deeds Prayer Virtuous
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.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Beautiful Healing Stars
And far and wide, in a scarlet tide, The poppy’s bonfire spread.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Bonfire Poppies Tides
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
Those who would attain to any marked degree of excellence in a chosen pursuit must work, and work hard for it, prince or peasant.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Excellence Hard Perseverance Work
Alone each heart must cover up its dead; Alone, through bitter toil, achieve its rest.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Heart Solitude
In 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 TAYLOR

Afar Emotion Soil
Sweeter than the stolen kiss Are the granted kisses
BAYARD TAYLOR

Granted Kissing Stolen
Above 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

Mind Mountain Past
And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens, Are singing the selfsame strain.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Pain Sea Wind
An enthusiastic desire of visiting the Old World haunted me from early childhood. I cherished a presentiment, amounting almost to belief, that I should one day behold the scenes, among which my fancy had so long wandered.
BAYARD TAYLOR

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

Higher Perfect Song
Labor, you know, is prayer.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Know Labor Prayer
The glories of the possible are ours.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Future Glory
To Truth’s house there is a single door, which is experience.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Doors Experience House

Alone each heart must cover up its dead; Alone, through bitter toil, achieve its rest.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

Alone each heart must cover up its dead; Alone, through bitter toil, achieve its rest.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

More Bayard Taylor Quotes