Though man or angel judge my life and read it like an open scroll, And weigh my heart, I have judge more… — Ridgely Torrence Copy Share Image
At first, she loved nought else but flowers, And then-she only loved the rose; And then-herself alone; and then- She knew not… — Ridgely Torrence Copy Share Image
The Song of Love, the Song of Hate, the Songs of Praise and of Thanksgiving; I've learned them all, but there remains… — Ridgely Torrence Copy Share Image
I saw them kissing in the shade and knew the sum of all my lore: God gave them Youth, God gave them Love, and… — Ridgely Torrence Copy Share Image
But work a year and sleep an hour, and sleep a night and sing a day, And take a little wine and love, and… — Ridgely Torrence Copy Share Image
Though man or angel judge my life and read it like an open scroll, And weigh my heart, I have judge more just than… — Ridgely Torrence Copy Share Image
Whether my days are cooled with calm or filled with fever's ardent taint, I have the same blue sky as God, I have the… — Ridgely Torrence Copy Share Image
Tell Youth to play with Wine and Love and never bear away the scars! I may as well tilt up the sky and yet… — Ridgely Torrence Copy Share Image
Sometimes I think that all mankind exist but to be bought and sold: The rich man's paramour is gold, the poor man's goddess, gold,… — Ridgely Torrence Copy Share Image
Girl, when he gives you kisses twain, use one, and let the other stay; And hoard it, for moons die, red fades, and you… — Ridgely Torrence Copy Share Image
A strong, brave man is born each month, each year God gives a sage to men, A poet each ten years, perhaps, but an… — Ridgely Torrence Copy Share Image
Of all the languages of the earth in which the human kind confer; The Master Speaker is the Tear: its the Great Interpreter. — Ridgely Torrence Copy Share Image
At first, she loved nought else but flowers, And then-she only loved the rose; And then-herself alone; and then- She knew not what, but… — Ridgely Torrence Copy Share Image
Whatever Juice this sky will pour this gaping parched old throat will drain; What time the Harper harps I'll dance: 'tis He, not I,… — Ridgely Torrence Copy Share Image
The Song of Love, the Song of Hate, the Songs of Praise and of Thanksgiving; I've learned them all, but there remains one called… — Ridgely Torrence Copy Share Image
