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There is nothing but death Our affections can sever, And till life's latest breath Love shall bind us for ever.

James Gates Percival

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James Gates Percival
Age: 60 †
Born: 1795
Born: September 15
Died: 1856
Died: May 2
Author
Geologist
Poet
Surgeon
University Teacher
Writer
Berlin
Connecticut
Ever
Bind
Nothing
Latest
Love
Till
Life
Breath
Breaths
Affection
Sever
Shall
Constancy
Death
Affections

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Green sods are all their monument and yet it tells A nobler history than pillared piles, Or the eternal pyramids.
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The thundering voice that wrings, in one dark, damning moment, crimes of years!
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Night steals on and the day takes its farewell, like the words of a departing friend, or the last tone of hallowed music in a minister's aisles, heard when it floats along the shade of elms, in the still place of graves.
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Thought can wing its way Swifter than lightning-flashes or the beam That hastens on the pinions of the morn.
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Happy the life, that in a peaceful stream, Obscure, unnoticed through the vale has flow'd The heart that ne'er was charm'd by fortune's gleam Is ever sweet contentment's blest abode.
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The recollection of one upward hour Hath more in it to tranquilize and cheer The darkness of despondency, than years Of gayety and pleasure.
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O rose! the sweetest blossom, Of spring the fairest flower, O rose! the joy of heaven. The god of love, with roses His yellow locks adorning, Dances with the hours and graces.
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Roses bloom, and then they wither Cheeks are bright, then fade and die Shapes of light are wafted hither, Then, like visions, hurry by.
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