Soft on the sunset sky Bright daylight closes, Leaving, when light doth die, Pale hues that mingling lie,— Ashes of roses. When love’s warm sun is set, Love’s brightness closes; Eyes with hot tears are wet, In hearts there linger yet Ashes of roses.
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When the wayside tangles blaze In the low September sun, When the flowers of Summer days Droop and wither, one by one, Reaching up through bush and brier, Sumptuous brow and heart of fire, Flaunting high its wind-rocked plume, Brave with wealth of native bloom,— Goldenrod! When... |
Soft on the sunset sky Bright daylight closes, Leaving, when light doth die, Pale hues that mingling lie,— Ashes of roses. When love’s warm sun is set, Love’s brightness closes; Eyes with hot tears are wet, In hearts there linger yet Ashes of roses. |
Dimpled and flushed and dewy pink he lies, Crumpled and tossed and lapt in snowy bands; Aimlessly reaching with his tiny hands, Lifting in wondering gaze his great blue eyes. Sweet pouting lips, parted by breathing sighs; Soft cheeks, warm-tinted as from tropic lands; Framed with brown hair in... |
Soft on the sunset sky Bright daylight closes, Leaving, when light doth die, Pale hues that mingling lie,— Ashes of roses. When love’s warm sun is set, Love’s brightness closes; Eyes with hot tears are wet, In hearts there linger yet Ashes of roses. |
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Handsome? i hardly know. Her profile ’s fine— Delightful, intellectual, aquiline. Her keen eyes light it; keen, yet often kind; Her fair hair crowns it to an artist’s mind. Fine figure and fine manners, without doubt, Determine half her charm, and bear me out. Learned? Well, rather. See them for... |
