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The dew, 'Tis of the tears which stars weep, sweet with joy.

Philip James Bailey

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Philip James Bailey
Age: 86 †
Born: 1816
Born: April 22
Died: 1902
Died: September 6
Author
Poet
Writer
P. J. Bailey
Weep
Tears
Sweet
Joy
Stars
Dew

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Poetry is itself a thing of God He made his prophets poets and the more We feel of poesie do we become Like God in love and power,-under-makers.
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Write to the mind and heart, and let the ear Glean after what it can.
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Fine thoughts are wealth, for the right use of which Men are and ought to be accountable,-- If not to Thee, to those they influence.
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Blessings star forth forever but a curse is like a cloud, it passes.
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A poet not in love is out at sea He must have a lay-figure.
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Where doubt there truth is - 'tis her shadow.
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None but God can fill the perfect whole.
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The wind breathes not, and the wave Walks softly as above a grave.
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Let each man think himself an act of God, His mind a thought, his life a breath of God And let each try, by great thoughts and good deeds, To show the most of Heaven he hath in him.
Philip James Bailey
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As the master so the valet.
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The course of Nature seems a course of Death, And nothingness the whole substantial thing.
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Grief hallows hearts, even while it ages heads.
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Death, thou art infinite it is life is little.
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The worst men often give the best advice. Our deeds are sometimes better than our thoughts.
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Necessity, like electricity, is in ourselves and all things, and no more without us than within us.
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Look on the bee upon the wing 'mong flowers How brave, how bright his life! then mark, him hiv'd, Cramp'd, cringing in his self-built, social cell, Thus it is in the world-hive most where men Lie deep in cities as in drifts.
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It matters not how long we live but how.
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There is no disappointment we endure one-half so great as what we are to ourselves.
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Stars which stand as thick as dewdrops on the field of heaven.
Philip James Bailey
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For ivy climbs the crumbling hall To decorate decay.
Philip James Bailey