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Thomas Bailey Aldrich -
Air
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Hebe's here, May is here!
The air is fresh and sunny;
And the miser-bees are busy
Hoarding golden honey.
Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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In street and alley, what strange tongues are loud, Accents of menace alien to our air, Voices that once the Tower of Babel knew! O Liberty, white Goddess! Is it well To leave the gates unguarded?
Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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What is lovely never dies, but passes into other loveliness, Star-dust, or sea-foam, flower or winged air.
Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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The air is full of hints of grief,
Strange voices touched with pain —
The pathos of the falling leaf
And rustling of the rain.
Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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In scarlet clusters o'er the grey stone-wall The barberries lean in thin autumnal air: Just when the fields and garden-plots are bare, And ere the green leaf takes the tint of fall, They come to make the eye a festival! Along the road, for miles, their torches flare.
Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Quote of the day
I must have a prodigious quantity of mind; it takes me as much as a week sometimes to make it up.
Mark Twain
Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Creative Commons
Born:
November 11, 1836
Died:
March 19, 1907
(aged 70)
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