EPIGRAMS, GREETINGS, AND INSCRIPTIONS

Hours fly, Flowers die New days, New ways, Pass by. Love stays.

Time is Too Slow for those who Wait, Too Swift for those who Fear, Too Long for those who Grieve, Too Short for those who Rejoice; But for those who Love, Time is not.

This is the window's message, In silence, to the Queen: “Thou hast a double kingdom And I am set between: Look out and see the glory, On hill and plain and sky: Look in and see the light of love That nevermore shall die!”

Window in the Queen's high tower, This shall be thy magic power! Shut the darkness and the doubt, Shut the storm and conflict, out; Wind and hail and snow and rain Dash against thee all in vain. Let in nothing from the night,— Let in every ray of light!

The cornerstone in Truth is laid, The guardian walls of Honour made, The roof of Faith is built above, The fire upon the hearth is Love: Though rains descend and loud winds call, This happy house shall never fall.

When the logs are burning free, Then the fire is full of glee: When each heart gives out its best, Then the talk is full of zest: Light your fire and never fear, Life was made for love and cheer.

The lintel low enough to keep out pomp and pride: The threshold high enough to turn deceit aside: The fastening strong enough from robbers to defend: This door will open at a touch to welcome every friend.

Time can never take What Time did not give; When my shadows have all passed, You shall live.

Two hundred years of blessing I record For Morven's house, protected by the Lord: And still I stand among old-fashioned flowers To mark for Morven many sunlit hours.

The shadow by my finger cast Divides the future from the past: Before it, sleeps the unborn hour, In darkness, and beyond thy power: Behind its unreturning line, The vanished hour, no longer thine: One hour alone is in thy hands,— The NOW on which the shadow stands.

With memories old and wishes new We crown our cups again, And here's to you, and here's to you With love that ne'er shall wane! And may you keep, at sixty-seven, The joy of earth, the hope of heaven, And fame well-earned, and friendship true, And peace that comforts every pain, And faith that fights the battle through, And all your heart's unbounded wealth, And all your wit, and all your health,— Yes, here's a hearty health to you, And here's to you, and here's to you, Long life to you, Mark Twain.

We knew you well, dear Yorick of the West, The very soul of large and friendly jest! You loved and mocked the broad grotesque of things In this new world where all the folk are kings.

Your breezy humour cleared the air, with sport Of shams that haunt the democratic court; For even where the sovereign people rule, A human monarch needs a royal fool.

Your native drawl lent flavour to your wit; Your arrows lingered but they always hit; Homeric mirth around the circle ran, But left no wound upon the heart of man.

We knew you kind in trouble, brave in pain; We saw your honour kept without a stain; We read this lesson of our Yorick's years,— True wisdom comes with laughter and with tears.

“Two things,” the wise man said, “fill me with awe: The starry heavens and the moral law.” Nay, add another wonder to thy roll,— The living marvel of the human soul!

Born in the dust and cradled in the dark, It feels the fire of an immortal spark, And learns to read, with patient, searching eyes, The splendid secret of the unconscious skies.

For God thought Light before He spoke the word; The darkness understood not, though it heard: But man looks up to where the planets swim, And thinks God's thoughts of glory after Him.

What knows the star that guides the sailor's way, Or lights the lover's bower with liquid ray, Of toil and passion, danger and distress, Brave hope, true love, and utter faithfulness?

But human hearts that suffer good and ill, And hold to virtue with a loyal will, Adorn the law that rules our mortal strife With star-surpassing victories of life.

So take our thanks, dear reader of the skies, Devout astronomer, most humbly wise, For lessons brighter than the stars can give, And inward light that helps us all to live.

Long had I loved this “Attic shape,” the brede Of marble maidens round this urn divine: But when your golden voice began to read, The empty urn was filled with Chian wine.

We met on Nature's stage, And May had set the scene, With bishop-caps standing in delicate ranks, And violets blossoming over the banks, While the brook ran full between.

The waters rang your call, With frolicsome waves a-twinkle,— They knew you as boy, and they knew you as man, And every wave, as it merrily ran, Cried, “Enter Rip van Winkle!”

In mirth he mocks the other birds at noon, Catching the lilt of every easy tune; But when the day departs he sings of love,— His own wild song beneath the listening moon.

A flawless cup: how delicate and fine The flowing curve of every jewelled line! Look, turn it up or down, 'tis perfect still,— But holds no drop of life's heart-warming wine.

Limber-limbed, lazy god, stretched on the rock, Where is sweet Echo, and where is your flock? What are you making here? “Listen,” said Pan,— “Out of a river-reed music for man!”

The nymphs a shepherd took To guard their snowy sheep; He led them down along the brook, And guided them with pipe and crook, Until he fell asleep.

But when the piping stayed, Across the flowery mead The milk-white nymphs ran out afraid: O Thyrsis, wake! Your flock has strayed,— The nymphs a shepherd need.

With two bright eyes, my star, my love, Thou lookest on the stars above: Ah, would that I the heaven might be With a million eyes to look on thee.

A little while the rose, And after that the thorn; An hour of dewy morn, And then the glamour goes. Ah, love in beauty born, A little while the rose!

O morning star, farewell! My love I now must leave; The hours of day I slowly tell, And turn to her with the twilight bell,— O welcome, star of eve!

Sweet in summer, cups of snow, Cooling thirsty lips aglow; Sweet to sailors winter-bound, Spring arrives with garlands crowned; Sweeter yet the hour that covers With one cloak a pair of lovers, Living lost in golden weather, While they talk of love together.

Although you eat me to the root, I yet shall bear enough of fruit For wine to sprinkle your dim eyes, When you are made a sacrifice.

Seven pupils, in the class Of Professor Callias, Listen silent while he drawls,— Three are benches, four are walls.

“The worlds in which we live are two: The world ‘I am’ and the world ‘I do,’”

The worlds in which we live at heart are one, The world “I am,” the fruit of “I have done”; And underneath these worlds of flower and fruit, The world “I love,”—the only living root.

“Joy is a Duty,”—so with golden lore The Hebrew rabbis taught in days of yore, And happy human hearts heard in their speech Almost the highest wisdom man can reach.

But one bright peak still rises far above, And there the Master stands whose name is Love, Saying to those whom weary tasks employ: “Life is divine when Duty is a Joy.”

Self is the only prison that can ever bind the soul; Love is the only angel who can bid the gates unroll; And when he comes to call thee, arise and follow fast; His way may lie through darkness, but it leads to light at last.

Who seeks for heaven alone to save his soul, May keep the path, but will not reach the goal; While he who walks in love may wander far, But God will bring him where the Blessed are.

There are many kinds of love, as many kinds of light, And every kind of love makes a glory in the night. There is love that stirs the heart, and love that gives it rest, But the love that leads life upward is the noblest and the best.

Deeds not Words: I say so too! And yet I find it somehow true, A word may help a man in need, To nobler act and braver deed.

Four things a man must learn to do If he would make his record true: To think without confusion clearly; To love his fellow-men sincerely; To act from honest motives purely; To trust in God and Heaven securely.

“In la sua volontade è nostra pace.”

O mighty river! strong, eternal Will, Wherein the streams of human good and ill Are onward swept, conflicting, to the sea! The world is safe because it floats in Thee.

Read here, O friend unknown, Our grief, of her bereft; Yet think not tears alone Within our hearts are left. The gifts she came to give, Her heavenly love and cheer, Have made us glad to live And die without a fear.

What is Fortune, what is Fame? Futile gold and phantom name,— Riches buried in a cave, Glory written on a grave.

What is Friendship? Something deep That the heart can spend and keep: Wealth that greatens while we give, Praise that heartens us to live.

Come, my friend, and let us prove Life's true talisman is love! By this charm we shall elude Poverty and solitude.

Far richer than a thornless rose Whose branch with beauty never glows, Is that which every June adorns With perfect bloom among its thorns.

Merely to live without a pain Is little gladness, little gain, Ah, welcome joy tho' mixt with grief,— The thorn-set flower that crowns the leaf.

Who knows how many thousand years ago The twelvefold Zodiac was made to show The course of stars above and men below?

The great sun plows his furrow by its “lines”: From all its “houses” mystic meaning shines: Deep lore of life is written in its “signs.”

Aries—Sacrifice. Snow-white and sacred is the sacrifice That Heaven demands for what our heart doth prize: The man who fears to suffer, ne'er can rise.

Taurus—Strength. Rejoice, my friend, if God has made you strong: Put forth your force to move the world along: Yet never shame your strength to do a wrong.

Gemini—Brotherhood. Bitter his life who lives for self alone, Poor would he be with riches and a throne: But friendship doubles all we are and own.

Cancer—The Wisdom of Retreat. Learn from the crab, O runner fresh and fleet, Sideways to move, or backward, when discreet; Life is not all advance,—sometimes retreat!

Leo—Fire. The sign of Leo is the sign of fire. Hatred we hate: but no man should desire A heart too cold to flame with righteous ire.

Virgo—Love. Mysterious symbol, words are all in vain To tell the secret power by which you reign. The more we love, the less we can explain.

Libra—Justice. Examine well the scales with which you weigh; Let justice rule your conduct every day; For when you face the Judge you'll need fair play.

Scorpio—Self-Defense. There's not a creature in the realm of night But has the wish to live, likewise the right: Don't tread upon the scorpion, or he'll fight.

Sagittarius—The Archer. Life is an arrow, therefore you must know What mark to aim at, how to use the bow,— Then draw it to the head and let it go!

Capricornus—The Goat. The goat looks solemn, yet he likes to run, And leap the rocks, and gambol in the sun: The truly wise enjoy a little fun.

Aquarius—Water. “Like water spilt upon the ground,”—alas, Our little lives flow swiftly on and pass; Yet may they bring rich harvests and green grass!

Pisces—The Fishes. Last of the sacred signs, you bring to me A word of hope, a word of mystery,— We all are swimmers in God's mighty sea.