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Men die but sorrow never dies.

Sarah Chauncey Woolsey

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Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
Age: 70 †
Born: 1835
Born: January 29
Died: 1905
Died: April 9
Author
Nurse
Poet
Writer
Cleveland
Ohio
Susan Coolidge
Sorrow
Dies
Never
Men

More quotes by Sarah Chauncey Woolsey

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We ring the bells and we raise the strain We hang up garlands everywhere And bid the tapers twinkle fair, And feast and frolic - and then we go Back to the same old lives again.
Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
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Few things are more aggravating than to be forgiven when one has done no wrong.
Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
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...this pause of rest, This morning hush before the sun.
Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
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The sobbing wind is fierce and strong its cry is like a human wail.
Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
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... And God, who studies each separate soul, out of commonplace lives makes his beautiful whole.
Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
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All green and fair the summer lies, Just budded from the bud of spring, With tender blue of wistful skies, And winds that softly sing.
Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
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Earth's saddest day and gladdest day were just three days apart!
Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
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So, just for one more merry day To the great Tree the leaflets clung, Frolicked and danced and had their way, Upon the autumn breezes swung.
Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
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Slow buds the pink dawn like a rose From out night's gray and cloudy sheath Softly and still it grows and grows, Petal by petal, leaf by leaf.
Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
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In the deep shadow of the porch A slender bind-weed springs, And climbs, like airy acrobat, The trellises, and swings And dances in the golden sun In fairy loops and rings.
Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
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Now the last red ray is gone Now the twilight shadows hie.
Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
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Every tear is answered by a blossom, Every sigh with songs and laughter blent, April-blooms upon the breezes toss them. April knows her own, and is content.
Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
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The Autumn seems to cry for thee,Best lover of the Autumn-days!
Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
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Every day is a fresh beginning Listen my soul, to the glad refrain, And in spite of old sorrow… and possible pain, Take heart with the day and begin again.
Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
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True love is not selfish. In time it accustoms itself to anything which secures happiness for its object.
Sarah Chauncey Woolsey