Every tear is answered by a blossom, Every sigh with songs and laughter blent, April-blooms upon the breezes toss them. April knows her own, and is content. — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
So, just for one more merry day To the great Tree the leaflets clung, Frolicked and danced and had their way, Upon the autumn breezes swung. — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
Slow buds the pink dawn like a rose From out night's gray and cloudy sheath; Softly and still it grows and grows, Petal by… — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
Every day is a fresh beginning, Every morn is the world made new — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
Now the last red ray is gone; Now the twilight shadows hie. — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
The sobbing wind is fierce and strong; its cry is like a human wail. — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
Spring's last-born darling, clear-eyed, sweet, Pauses a moment, with white twinkling feet, And golden locks in breezy play, Half teasing and half tender, to… — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
We ring the bells and we raise the strain We hang up garlands everywhere And bid the tapers twinkle fair, And feast and frolic… — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
Every tear is answered by a blossom, Every sigh with songs and laughter blent, April-blooms upon the breezes toss them. April knows her own,… — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
Earth's saddest day and gladdest day were just three days apart! — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
Every day is a fresh beginning; Listen my soul, to the glad refrain, And in spite of old sorrow and possible pain, Take heart… — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
True love is not selfish. In time it accustoms itself to anything which secures happiness for its object. — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
Dry leaves upon the wall, Which flap like rustling wings and seek escape, A single frosted cluster on the grape Still hangs--and that is… — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
All green and fair the summer lies, Just budded from the bud of spring, With tender blue of wistful skies, And winds that softly… — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
Every day is a fresh beginning. Every morn is the world made anew. — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
Few things are more aggravating than to be forgiven when one has done no wrong. — Sarah Chauncey Woolsey Copy Share Image
