Henri De Toulouse-Lautrec Gallery Denis Nolet Gallery Pablo Picasso Gallery Pierre-Auguste Renoir Gallery Charles Russell Gallery
Last Lines of Henry TimrodA calm blue sky again. A Dream like you hath touched the pen. And a whisper,
He is gone!And every leaf should fold its flower. And guide and guard them in the truth! And her woman's soul. And here's to -- when thou find'st her -- thine! And let me die! And shall not blind me with your smiles. Appear! Appear! As would almost persuade thee to wish it thine own. But I should die with less. But kiss me as the breeze does now. But to strengthen his love for the home of his birth. From the first sweet night in May. Hath sometimes waked them sooner. I loved but for thy sake. If they could feel the beat of thine! Looking to far-off and celestial things. Munch it, O Owl! with less profound a face. Nor reason'gainst your tears. O! forgive me if I whisper that dear name I whisper now. On the spot where they fell, and -- but here is your book! Strike like contempt. That tell us solemn secrets of ourselves. Thou'lt fancy me -- this gentle South. To wish, do everything but -- hope. Unto a lover's and thy mother's eyes! We think to date a week with sage! Where we may rest, and whence we pray to rise. Which hides ten thousand graves. With the sweet flowers that blossom at their feet. Ye will not leave undone. The rest is God's!