At first, she loved nought else but flowers, And then-she only loved the rose; And then-herself alone; and then- She knew not what, but now-she knows.
The Song of Love, the Song of Hate, the Songs of Praise and of Thanksgiving; I've learned them all, but there remains one called the Melody of … - Ridgely Torrence
The Song of Love, the Song of Hate, the Songs of Praise and of Thanksgiving; I've learned them all, but there remains one called the Melody of …
- Ridgely Torrence
At first, she loved nought else but flowers, And then-she only loved the rose; And then-herself alone; and then- She knew not what, but now-she kn… - Ridgely Torrence
At first, she loved nought else but flowers, And then-she only loved the rose; And then-herself alone; and then- She knew not what, but now-she kn…
Though man or angel judge my life and read it like an open scroll, And weigh my heart, I have judge more just than any—my own soul. - Ridgely Torrence
Though man or angel judge my life and read it like an open scroll, And weigh my heart, I have judge more just than any—my own soul.
Whatever Juice this sky will pour this gaping parched old throat will drain; What time the Harper harps I'll dance: 'tis He, not I, who shall com… - Ridgely Torrence
Whatever Juice this sky will pour this gaping parched old throat will drain; What time the Harper harps I'll dance: 'tis He, not I, who shall com…
But work a year and sleep an hour, and sleep a night and sing a day, And take a little wine and love, and when you feel religious—pray. - Ridgely Torrence
But work a year and sleep an hour, and sleep a night and sing a day, And take a little wine and love, and when you feel religious—pray.
Tell Youth to play with Wine and Love and never bear away the scars! I may as well tilt up the sky and yet try not to spill the stars. - Ridgely Torrence
Tell Youth to play with Wine and Love and never bear away the scars! I may as well tilt up the sky and yet try not to spill the stars.
Sometimes I think that all mankind exist but to be bought and sold: The rich man's paramour is gold, the poor man's goddess, gold, gold, gold. - Ridgely Torrence
Sometimes I think that all mankind exist but to be bought and sold: The rich man's paramour is gold, the poor man's goddess, gold, gold, gold.
A strong, brave man is born each month, each year God gives a sage to men, A poet each ten years, perhaps, but an unselfish person,—when? - Ridgely Torrence
A strong, brave man is born each month, each year God gives a sage to men, A poet each ten years, perhaps, but an unselfish person,—when?
Girl, when he gives you kisses twain, use one, and let the other stay; And hoard it, for moons die, red fades, and you may need a kiss—some day. - Ridgely Torrence
Girl, when he gives you kisses twain, use one, and let the other stay; And hoard it, for moons die, red fades, and you may need a kiss—some day.
Login to join the discussion
Login to join the discussion