Portrait from Wikimedia Commons. Credit: Fred Palumbo, World Telegram staff photographer. Used under Public domain / CC0. Processed and styled by Quotewise.
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Too long I've owed you this apology For the apparently unmeaning sorrow You were afflicted with in those old days. But it was of the essence of the trial You shouldn't understand it at the time.
Happiness Makes Up in Height For What It Lacks in Length
Oh, stormy stormy world, The days you were not swirled Around with mist and cloud, Or wrapped as in a shroud, And the sun’s brilliant ball Was not in part or all Obscured from mortal view — Were days so very few I can but wonder whence I get the lasting sense Of so much warmth and light. If my mistrust is right It may be altogether From one day’s perfect weather, When starting clear at dawn, The day swept clearly on To finish clear at eve. I verily believe My fair impression may Be all from that one day No shadow crossed but ours As through its blazing flowers We went from house to wood For change of solitude.
No memory of having starred Atones for later disregard, Or keeps the end from being hard. Better to go down dignified With boughten friendship at your side Than none at all. Provide, provide!
