The sweetest noise on earth, a woman’s tongue; A string which hath no discord.
Bryan Procter
Oh, the summer night, Has a smile of light, And she sits on a sapphire throne.
Bryan Procter
O human beauty, what a dream art thou, that we should cast our life and hopes away on thee!
Bryan Procter
I never was on the dull, tame shore, But I loved the great sea more and more.
Bryan Procter
Even Echo speaks not on these radiant moors.
Bryan Procter
Touch us gently, Time! Let us glide adown thy stream, Gently, – as we sometimes glide Through a quiet dream!
Bryan Procter
There’s not a wind but whispers of thy name; And not a flow’r that grows beneath the moon, But in its hues and fragrance tells a tale Of thee, my love.
Bryan Procter
So mightiest powers buy deepest calms are fed, And sleep, how oft, in things that gentlest be!
Bryan Procter
Pity speaks to grief More sweetly than a band of instruments.
Bryan Procter
Death is the tyrant of the imagination.
Bryan Procter
Half the ills we heard within our hearts are ills because we hoard them.
Bryan Procter
All round the room my silent servants wait, My friends in every season, bright and dim.
Bryan Procter