Bayard Taylor (January 11, 1825 – December 19, 1878) was an American poet, literary critic, translator, travel author, and diplomat.
Opportunity is rare, and a wise man will never let it go by him.
The stream from Wisdom's well, Which God supplies, is inexhaustible.
Women are not apt to be won by the charms of verse.
The clouds are scudding across the moon, A misty light is on the sea; The wind in the shrouds has a wintry tune, And the foam is flying free.
I know I am--that simplest bliss The millions of my brothers miss. I know the fortune to be born, Even to the meanest wretch they scorn.
Love is better than Fame.
The loving are the daring.
It is an agreeable and yet a painful sense of novelty to stand for the first time in the midst of a people whose language and manners are different from one's own.
The bravest are the most tender; the loving are the daring.
There may come a day Which crowns Desire with gift, and Art with truth, And Love with bliss, and Life with wiser youth!
Sometimes an hour of Fate's serenest weather Strikes through our changeful sky its coming beams; Somewhere above us, in elusive ether, Waits the fulfilment of our dearest dreams.
Alone each heart must cover up its dead; Alone, through bitter toil, achieve its rest.
An enthusiastic desire of visiting the Old World haunted me from early childhood. I cherished a presentiment, amounting almost to belief, that I should one day behold the scenes, among which my fancy had so long wandered.
Swelling in anger or sparkling in glee.
Those who would attain to any marked degree of excellence in a chosen pursuit must work, and work hard for it, prince or peasant.
Labor, you know, is prayer.
To learn by observation is traveling, people must also bring knowledge with them.
The lamp you lighted in the olden time Will show you my heart's-blood beating through the rhyme: A poet's journal, writ in fire and tears. . . Then slow deliverance, with the gaps of years.
We follow and race In shifting chase, Over the boundless ocean-space! Who hath beheld when the race begun? Who shall behold it run?
Really,' thought I, 'we call Baltimore the 'Monumental City' for its two marble columns, and here is Edinburg with one at every street-corner!