She never found fault with you, never implied Your wrong by her right; and yet men at her side Grew nobler, girls purer, as thro' the whole town The children were gladder that pull'd at her gown-- My Kate.
None knelt at her feet confess'd lovers in thrall; They knelt more to God than they used,--that was all: If you praised her as charming, some ask'd what you meant. But the charm of her presence was felt when she went-- My Kate.
The weak and the gentle, the ribald and rude, She took as she found them, and did them all good; It always was so with her--see what you have! She has made the grass greener even here with her grave-- My Kate.
My dear one!--When thou wast alive with the rest, I held thee the sweetest and loved thee the best: And now thou art dead, shall I not take thy part As thy smiles used to do for thyself, my sweet Heart-- My Kate? --_Elizabeth Barrett Browning_
There is no friend like an old friend Who has shared our morning days, No greeting like his welcome, No homage like his praise. Fame is the scentless sunflower, With gaudy crown of gold; But friendship is the breathing rose With sweets in every fold. --_Oliver Wendell Holmes_
I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless; That only men incredulous of despair, Half taught in anguish, through the midnight air Beat upward to God's throne in loud excess Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness In soul as countries lieth silent-bare Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death-- Most like a monumental statue set In everlasting watch and moveless woe Till itself crumble to the dust beneath. Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet: If it could weep, it could arise and go. --_Elizabeth Barrett Browning_
No show of bolts and bars Can keep the foeman out, Or 'scape his secret mine Who enter'd with the doubt That drew the line. No warder at the gate Can let the friendly in; But, like the sun, o'er all He will the castle win, And shine along the wall.
Implacable is Love-- Foes may be bought or teased From their hostile intent, But he goes unappeased Who is on kindness bent. --_Henry David Thoreau_
Trust thou thy Love: if she be proud, is she not sweet? Trust thou thy Love: if she be mute, is she not pure? Lay thou thy soul full in her hands, low at her feet; Fail, Sun and Breath!--yet, for thy peace, She shall endure. --_John Ruskin_