John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.
Page 815
| Sir Edmund William Gosse. (1849–1928) (continued) |
| 7940 |
| The Past is like a funeral gone by, The Future comes like an unwelcome guest. |
| Sonnet. May-Day. |
| 7941 |
| Where are the cities of old time? |
| The Ballade of dead Cities. |
| 7942 |
| If I could read you like a book Or like a wizard’s glass of old I might discover why you look so cold. |
| The Cast. |
| Austin Dobson. (1840–1921) |
| 7943 |
| The ladies of St. James’s! They’re painted to the eyes; Their white it stays forever Their red it never dies: But Phillida, my Phillida! Her color comes and goes; It trembles to a lily,— It wavers to a rose. |
| At the Sign of the Lyre. |
| Thomas Hardy. (1840–1928) |
| 7944 |
| When false things are brought low, And swift things have grown slow, Feigning like froth shall go, Faith be for aye. |
| Between us now. |
| 7945 |
| Whence comes solace? Not from seeing, What is doing, suffering, being; Not from noting Life’s conditions, Not from heeding Time’s monitions; But in cleaving to the Dream And in gazing at the Gleam Whereby gray things golden seem. |
| On a fine Morning. |