Helen's Song

THE Rose is

Weeping for her love,

The nightingale.

And he is flying

Fast above,

To her he will

Not fail.

Already golden

Eve appears;

He wings his way along;

Ah! look he comes

To kiss her tears,

And soothe her

With his song.

Philip James Bailey

We live in deeds . . .

WE live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;

In feelings, not in figures on a dial.

We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives

Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.

And he whose heart beats quickest lives the longest:

Lives in one hour more than in years do some

Whose fat blood sleeps as it slips along their veins.

Life's but a means unto an end; that end,

Beginning, mean, and end to all things -- God.

The dead have all the glory of the world.

Philip James Bailey

I loved her for that she was beautiful . . .

I LOVED her for that she was beautiful;

And that to me she seem'd to be all Nature,

And all varieties of things in one:

Would set at night in clouds of tears, and rise

All light and laughter in the morning; fear

No petty customs nor appearances;

But think what others only dream'd about;

And say what others did but think; and do

What others dared not do: so pure withal

In soul; in heart and act such conscious yet

Such perfect innocence, she made round her

A halo of delight. 'Twas these which won me; --

And that she never school'd within her breast

One thought or feeling, but gave holiday

To all; and that she made all even mine

In the communion of love: and we

Grew like each other, for we loved each other;

She, mild and generous as the air in spring;

And I, like earth all budding out with love.

Philip James Bailey