Good-by: nay, do not grieve that it is over— The perfect hour; That the winged joy, sweet honey-loving rover, Flits from the flower. Grieve not,—it is the law. Love will be flying— Yea, love and all. Glad was the living; blessed be the dying! Let the leaves fall.
Good-by: nay, do not grieve that it is over— The perfect hour; That the winged joy, sweet honey-loving rover, Flits from the flower. Grieve not,—it is the law. Love will be flying— Yea, love and all. Glad was the living; blessed be the dying! Let the leaves fall.
flower of the moon! Still white is her brow whom we worshiped on earth long ago; Yea, purer than pearls in deep seas, and more virgin than snow. The dull years veil their eyes from her shining, and vanish afraid, Nor profane her with age—the immortal, nor dim her with shade. It is we are...
Beside her ashen hearth she sate her down, Whence he she loved had fled,— His children plucking at her sombre gown And calling for the dead. One came to her clad in the robes of May, And said sweet words of cheer, Bidding her bear the burden in God’s way, And feel her loved ones...
When sunshine met the wave, Then love was born; Then Venus rose to save A world forlorn. For light a thousand wings Of joy unfurled, And bound with golden rings The icy world. And color flamed the earth With glad desire, Till life sprang to the birth, Fire answering fire, And so the...
Washington when dreaming kings, at odds with swift paced time, Would strike that banner down, A nobler knight than ever writ or rhyme With fame’s bright wreath did crown Through armed hosts bore it till it floated high Beyond the clouds, a light that cannot die! Ah, hero of our younger...
