I sing the hymn of the conquered, who fell in the Battle of Life,-The hymn of the wounded, the beaten, who died overwhelmed in the strife....The hymn…

- William Wetmore Story

Oh! faint delicious spring-time violet, Thine odor like a key, Turns noiselessly in memory's wards to let A thought of sorrow free.

- William Wetmore Story

The shadows of twilight grow, And the tiger’s ancient fierceness In my veins begins to flow.

- William Wetmore Story

But the gray and the cold are haunted by a beauty akin to pain, by a sense of a something wanted that never will come again.

- William Wetmore Story

Of every noble work the silent part is best; of all expression, that which cannot be expressed.

- William Wetmore Story

They only the victory win, Who have fought the good fight and have vanquished the demon that tempts us within; Who have held to their faith unseduced…

- William Wetmore Story

The Poet in his ArtMust intimate the whole, and say the smallest part.

- William Wetmore Story