Who thinks, at night, that morn will ever be? Who knows, far out upon the central sea, That anywhere is land? And yet, a shore Has set behind us, and will rise before: A past foretells a future.
BAYARD TAYLORThe aquilegia sprinkled on the rocks A scarlet rain; the yellow violet Sat in the chariot of its leaves, the phlox Held spikes of purple flame in meadows wet, And all the streams with vernal-scented reed Were fringed, and streaky bellow of miskodeed.
More Bayard Taylor Quotes
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Life lives only in success.
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And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens, Are singing the selfsame strain.
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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.
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By wisdom wealth is won; but riches purchased wisdom yet for none.
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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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London has the advantage of one of the most gloomy atmospheres in the world.
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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.
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Pens carry further than rifled cannon.
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Eccentricity is developed monomania.
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The glories of the possible are ours.
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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!
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The Poet’s leaves are gathered one by one, In the slow process of the doubtful years.
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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.
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And far and wide, in a scarlet tide, The poppy’s bonfire spread.
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The hollows are heavy and dank With the steam of the Goldenrods.
BAYARD TAYLOR