What ye have been ye still shall be, When we are dust the dust among, O yellow flowers!
Henry Austin Dobson
Time goes, you say? Ah, no! alas, time stays, we go.
Henry Austin Dobson
Love comes unseen; we only see it go.
Henry Austin Dobson
I intended an Ode, And it turned to a Sonnet.
Henry Austin Dobson
Look thy last on all things lovely, Every hour – let no night Seal thy sense in deathly slumber Till to delight Thou hast paid thy utmost blessing.
Henry Austin Dobson
Not as ours the books of old – Things that steam can stamp and fold; Not as ours the books of yore – Rows of type, and nothing more.
Henry Austin Dobson