Bayard Taylor

Higher than the perfect song
For which love longeth,
Is the tender fear of wrong,
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Higher than the perfect song
For which love longeth,
Is the tender fear of wrong,
That never wrongeth.

But who will watch my lilies,
When their blossoms open white?
By day the sun shall be read more

But who will watch my lilies,
When their blossoms open white?
By day the sun shall be sentry,
And the moon and the stars by night!

Pansies in soft April rains
Fill their stalks with honeyed sap
Drawn from Earth's prolific lap.

Pansies in soft April rains
Fill their stalks with honeyed sap
Drawn from Earth's prolific lap.

With rushing winds and gloomy skies
The dark and stubborn Winter dies:
Far-off, unseen, Spring faintly cries,
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With rushing winds and gloomy skies
The dark and stubborn Winter dies:
Far-off, unseen, Spring faintly cries,
Bidding her earliest child arise;
March!

Shelved around us lie
The mummied authors.

Shelved around us lie
The mummied authors.