Alexander Smith

The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.

The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.

Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.

Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.

The sun was down,
And all the west was paved with sullen fire.
I cried, "Behold! the read more

The sun was down,
And all the west was paved with sullen fire.
I cried, "Behold! the barren beach of hell
At ebb of tide."

Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.

Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.

We twain have met like the ships upon the sea,
Who behold an hour's converse, so short, so sweet:
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We twain have met like the ships upon the sea,
Who behold an hour's converse, so short, so sweet:
One little hour! and then, away they speed
On lonely paths, through mist, and cloud, and foam,
To meet no more.