Philip James Bailey ( 7 of 77 )
Poets are all who love,--who feel great truths,
And tell them.
Poets are all who love,--who feel great truths,
And tell them.
Dewdrops, Nature's tears, which she
Sheds in her own breast for the fair which die.
The sun read more
Dewdrops, Nature's tears, which she
Sheds in her own breast for the fair which die.
The sun insists on gladness; but at night,
When he is gone, poor Nature loves to weep.
For as nightingales do upon glow-worms feed,
So poets live upon the living light.
For as nightingales do upon glow-worms feed,
So poets live upon the living light.
Surely the stars are images of love.
Surely the stars are images of love.
The death-bed of a day, how beautiful!
The death-bed of a day, how beautiful!
The stars,
Which stand as thick as dewdrops on the fields
Of heaven.
The stars,
Which stand as thick as dewdrops on the fields
Of heaven.
Write to the mind and heart, and let the ear
Glean after what it can.
Write to the mind and heart, and let the ear
Glean after what it can.
