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.

And far and wide, in a scarlet tide,
The poppy's bonfire spread.

And far and wide, in a scarlet tide,
The poppy's bonfire spread.

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!

The bravest are the most tender; the loving are the daring.

The bravest are the most tender; the loving are the daring.

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!