A breath, whence no man knows, Swaying the grating weeds, it blows; It comes, it grieves, it goes. Once it rocked the summer rose.
The happiest heart that ever beat Was in some quiet breast That found the common daylight sweet, And left to Heaven the rest. - John Vance Cheney
The happiest heart that ever beat Was in some quiet breast That found the common daylight sweet, And left to Heaven the rest.
- John Vance Cheney
The soul would have no rainbow had the eyes no tears. [So when you are crying remember also to anticipate and look for the rainbow.] - John Vance Cheney
The soul would have no rainbow had the eyes no tears. [So when you are crying remember also to anticipate and look for the rainbow.]
I question not if thrushes sing, If roses load the air; Beyond my heart I need not reach When all is summer there. - John Vance Cheney
I question not if thrushes sing, If roses load the air; Beyond my heart I need not reach When all is summer there.
The message from the hedge-leaves, Heed it, whoso thou art; Under lowly eaves Lives the happy heart. - John Vance Cheney
The message from the hedge-leaves, Heed it, whoso thou art; Under lowly eaves Lives the happy heart.
If so men's memories not a monument be, None shalt thou have. Warm hearts, and not cold stone, Must mark thy grave, or thou shalt lie, unknown. Marbl… - John Vance Cheney
If so men's memories not a monument be, None shalt thou have. Warm hearts, and not cold stone, Must mark thy grave, or thou shalt lie, unknown. Marbl…
A breath, whence no man knows, Swaying the grating weeds, it blows; It comes, it grieves, it goes. Once it rocked the summer rose. - John Vance Cheney
No command of art, No toil, can help you hear; Earth's minstrelsy falls clear But on the listening heart. - John Vance Cheney
No command of art, No toil, can help you hear; Earth's minstrelsy falls clear But on the listening heart.
The wind is awake, pretty leave, pretty leaves, Heed not what he says, he deceives, he deceives; Over and over To the lowly clover He has lisped the … - John Vance Cheney
The wind is awake, pretty leave, pretty leaves, Heed not what he says, he deceives, he deceives; Over and over To the lowly clover He has lisped the …
Holding occasion by the hand, Not over nice 'twixt weed and flower, Waiving what none can understand, I make mine hour. - John Vance Cheney
Holding occasion by the hand, Not over nice 'twixt weed and flower, Waiving what none can understand, I make mine hour.
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