Bayard Taylor

Higher than the perfect song
For which love longeth,
Is the tender fear of wrong,
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Higher than the perfect song
For which love longeth,
Is the tender fear of wrong,
That never wrongeth.

The bravest are the most tender; the loving are the daring.

The bravest are the most tender; the loving are the daring.

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

And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens,
Are singing the selfsame strain.

And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens,
Are singing the selfsame strain.

Shelved around us lie
The mummied authors.

Shelved around us lie
The mummied authors.