A face at the window, a tap on the pane, who is it that wants me tonight in the rain? — Richard Henry Stoddard Faces Copy Share Image
There is no death. The thing that we call death Is but another, sadder name for life. — Richard Henry Stoddard Death Copy Share Image
There is no hope the future will but turn the old sand in the falling glass of time. — Richard Henry Stoddard Copy Share Image
Silence is the speech of love, The music of the spheres above. — Richard Henry Stoddard Communication Copy Share Image
Day is the Child of Time, And Day must cease to be: But Night is without a sire, And cannot expire, One… — Richard Henry Stoddard Copy Share Image
Day and night my thoughts incline To the blandishments of wine, Jars were made to drain, I think; Wine, I know, was… — Richard Henry Stoddard Day and night Copy Share Image
Once, when the days were ages, And the old Earth was young, The high gods and the sages From Nature's golden pages… — Richard Henry Stoddard Age Copy Share Image
Pale in her fading bowers the Summer stands, Like a new Niobe with claspèd hands, Silent above the flowers, her children lost,… — Richard Henry Stoddard Copy Share Image
There are gains for all our losses, There are balms for all our pain: But when youth, the dream, departs, It takes… — Richard Henry Stoddard Death Copy Share Image
We have two lives about us,Two worlds in which we dwell,Within us and without us,Alternate Heaven and Hell:-Without, the somber Real,Within, our… — Richard Henry Stoddard Beautiful Copy Share Image
With no companion but the constant Muse, Who sought me when I needed her ah, when Did I not need her, solitary… — Richard Henry Stoddard Companion Copy Share Image
Heaven is not gone, but we are blind with tears, Groping our way along the downward slope of Years! — Richard Henry Stoddard Blind Copy Share Image
There is no death-the thing that we call death Is but another, sadder name for life, Which is itself an insufficient name,… — Richard Henry Stoddard Death Copy Share Image
A voice of greeting from the wind was sent; The mists enfolded me with soft white arms; The birds did sing to… — Richard Henry Stoddard Copy Share Image
Given the books of a man, it is not difficult, I think, to detect therein the personality of the man, and the… — Richard Henry Stoddard Book Copy Share Image
Children are the keys of Paradise.They alone are good and wise, Because their thoughts, their very lives are prayer. — Richard Henry Stoddard Children Copy Share Image
