Sarah Morgan Bryan Piatt Quotes

7 Sourced Quotes

All the glories of the sunset,
In the sunrise one may see;
That which others call the dawning
Is the night for you and me.

Sarah Morgan Bryan Piatt

This was your butterfly, you see—
His fine wings made him vain:
The caterpillars crawl, but he
Passed them in rich disdain.—
My pretty boy says, Let him be
Only a worm again!

Sarah Morgan Bryan Piatt

My mother says I must not pass
Too near that glass;
She is afraid that I will see
A little witch that looks like me,
With a red mouth to whisper low
The very thing I should not know.

Sarah Morgan Bryan Piatt

Yet, with this ruined Old World for a nest,
Worm-eaten through and through,-

Sarah Morgan Bryan Piatt

Other suns will shine as golden,
Other skies be just as blue;
Other south winds blow as softly,
Gently drinking up the dew.

Sarah Morgan Bryan Piatt

There stretch'd a sleeping army. One by one,
They took their places until thousands met;
No leader's stars flash'd on before, and none
Lean'd on his sword or stagger'd with his gun —
I wonder if their feet have rested yet!

Sarah Morgan Bryan Piatt

If this be all, for which I've listened long,
Oh, spirit of the dew!
You did not sing to Shelley such a song
As Shelley sung to you.

Sarah Morgan Bryan Piatt

Sarah Morgan Bryan Piatt

Sarah Morgan Bryan Piatt

Born: August 11, 1836

Died: December 22, 1919 (aged 83)

Bio: Sarah Morgan Bryan Piatt was an American poet.

Known for:

An Irish Garland (1884)
A Voyage to the Fortunate Isles, Etc (1874)
An Irish Wild-flower, Etc (1891)

Sarah Morgan Bryan Piatt on Wikipedia

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