Bayard Taylor

Shelved around us lie
The mummied authors.

Shelved around us lie
The mummied authors.

When May, with cowslip-braided locks,
Walks through the land in green attire.
And burns in meadow-grass the read more

When May, with cowslip-braided locks,
Walks through the land in green attire.
And burns in meadow-grass the phlox
His torch of purple fire:
. . . .
And when the punctual May arrives,
With cowslip-garland on her brow,
We know what once she gave our lives,
And cannot give us now!

And far and wide, in a scarlet tide,
The poppy's bonfire spread.

And far and wide, in a scarlet tide,
The poppy's bonfire spread.

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

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

Higher than the perfect song
For which love longeth,
Is the tender fear of wrong,
read more

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