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I like not lady-slippers, Nor yet the sweet-pea blossoms, Nor yet the flaky roses, Red or white as snow I like the chaliced lilies, The heavy Eastern lilies, The gorgeous tiger-lilies, That in our garden grow.

Thomas Bailey Aldrich

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Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Age: 70 †
Born: 1836
Born: November 2
Died: 1907
Died: March 19
Editor
Journalist
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Portsmouth
New Hampshire
Grows
Lady
Peas
White
Snow
Blossoms
Like
Red
Lilies
Heavy
Tiger
Rose
Roses
Garden
Tigers
Sweet
Gorgeous
Flaky
Grow
Eastern
Slippers

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What is slang in one age sometimes goes into the vocabulary of the purist in the next.
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A glance, a word -- and joy or pain befalls.... How slight the links are in the chain that binds us to our destiny!
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It is the Lord's Day, and I do believe that cheerful hearts and faces are not unpleasant in His sight.
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Dialect tempered with slang is an admirable medium of communication between persons who have nothing to say and persons who would not care for anything properly said.
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What is lovely never dies, but passes into other loveliness, Star-dust, or sea-foam, flower or winged air.
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O harp of life, so speedily unstrung!
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My father invested his money so securely in the banking business that he was never able to get any of it out again.
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It is only your habitual late riser who takes in the full flavor of Nature at those rare intervals when he gets up to go afishing. He brings virginal emotions and unsatiated eyes to the sparkling freshness of earth and stream and sky.
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Hebe's here, May is here! The air is fresh and sunny And the miser-bees are busy Hoarding golden honey.
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That was indeed to live -- at one bold swoop to wrest from darkling death the best that death to life can give.
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Everyone has a bookplate these days, and the collectors are after it. The fool and his bookplate are soon parted. To distribute one's ex libris is inanely to destroy the only significance it has, that of indicating the past or present ownership of the volume in which it is placed.
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Come watch with me the shaft of fire that glows in yonder West the fair, frail palaces, The fading Alps and archipelagoes and great cloud continents of sunset-seas.
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The ring of a false coin is not more recognizable than that of a rhyme setting forth a false sorrow.
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Decoration Day is the most beautiful of our national holidays.... The grim cannon have turned into palm branches, and the shell and shrapnel into peach blossoms.
Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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When friends are at your hearthside met, Sweet courtesy has done its most If you have made each guest forget That he himself is not the host.
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Up from the dark the moon begins to creep and now a pallid, haggard face lifts she above the water-line: thus from the deep a drowned body rises solemnly.
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October turned my maple's leaves to gold The most are gone now here and there one lingers: Soon these will slip from the twigs' weak hold, Like coins between a dying miser's fingers.
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All the best sands of my life are somehow getting into the wrong end of the hourglass. If I could only reverse it! Were it in my power to do sowould I?
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We weep when we are born, Not when we die!
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To keep the heart unwrinkled, to be hopeful, kindly, cheerful, reverent that is to triumph over old age.
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