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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.

Bayard Taylor

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
But still I dream that somewhere there must be The spirit of a child that waits for me.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Childhood Children Dream
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.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Desire Fire Wind
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
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
Love is better than Fame.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Better Fame Love
Alone each heart must cover up its dead; Alone, through bitter toil, achieve its rest.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Heart Solitude
The maxims tell you to aim at perfection, which is well; but it’s unattainable, all the same.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Aim Perfection Unattainable
The 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 TAYLOR

Clouds Light Moon
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

Art Desire Success
With rushing winds and gloomy skies The dark and stubborn Winter dies: Far-off, unseen, Spring faintly cries, Bidding her earliest child arise; March!
BAYARD TAYLOR

Children Dark Spring
Pens carry further than rifled cannon.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Cannons Carry Pens
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
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
Opportunity is rare, and a wise man will never let it go by him.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Men Opportunity Wise
And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens, Are singing the selfsame strain.
BAYARD TAYLOR

Pain Sea Wind

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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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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