The aquilegia sprinkled on the rocks A scarlet rain; the yellow violet Sat in the chariot of its leaves, the phlox Held spikes of purple flame in meadows wet, And all the streams with vernal-scented reed Were fringed, and streaky… — Bayard Taylor Copy Share Image
Voluptuous bloom and fragrance rare The summer to its rose may bring; Far sweeter to the wooing air The hidden violet of spring. Still, still that lovely ghost appears, Too fair, too pure, to bid depart; No riper love of… — Bayard Taylor Copy Share Image
Above Coblentz almost every mountain has a ruin and a legend. One feels everywhere the spirit of the past, and its stirring recollections come… — Bayard Taylor Copy Share Image
So far as female beauty is concerned, the Circassian women have no superiors. They have preserved in their mountain home the purity of the… — Bayard Taylor Copy Share Image
The maxims tell you to aim at perfection, which is well; but it's unattainable, all the same. — Bayard Taylor Copy Share Image
But still I dream that somewhere there must be The spirit of a child that waits for me. — Bayard Taylor Copy Share Image
Departed suns their trails of splendor drew Across departed summers: whispers came From voices, long ago resolved again Into the primeval Silence, and we… — Bayard Taylor Copy Share Image
Fame is what you have taken, character is what you give; when to this truth you waken then you begin to live. — Bayard Taylor Copy Share Image
Although Damascus is considered the oldest city in the world, the date of its foundation going beyond tradition, there are very few relics of… — Bayard Taylor Copy Share Image
London has the advantage of one of the most gloomy atmospheres in the world. — Bayard Taylor Copy Share Image
To learn by observation is traveling, people must also bring knowledge with them. — Bayard Taylor Copy Share Image
Poetry had great powers over me from my childhood, and today the poems live in my memory which I read at the age of… — Bayard Taylor Copy Share Image
In the glory which overhangs Palestine afar off, we imagine emotions which never come, when we tread the soil and walk over the hallowed… — Bayard Taylor Copy Share Image
