William Story
William Story
William Wetmore Storywas an American sculptor, art critic, poet, and editor...
ProfessionSculptor
Date of Birth12 February 1819
battle died fell hymn sing
I sing the hymn of the conquered, who fell in the Battle of Life,The hymn of the wounded, the beaten, who died overwhelmed in the strife.
constant content daily doubts hear instrument man phrase sweet tires woman
Man is content to know that he is loved,And tires the constant phrase "I love" to hear;But woman doubts the instrument is brokeUnless she daily hear the sweet refrain.
discord loose love sour strings
Nothing can be sour and sharpAs a love that has decayed --On the loose strings of the harpOnly discord can be made.
hate love round turn
Hate me an hour, and then turn round And love me truly, just one minute.
annals calls success thy whom won
Speak, History! Who are life's victors? Unroll thy long annals and say: Are they those whom the world calls the victors, who won the success of a day?
discord loose love sharp sour strings
Nothing can be sour and sharp As a love that has decayed -- On the loose strings of the harp Only discord can be made.
broke constant content daily doubt doubts hear instrument man phrase sweet tires unless woman
Man is content to know that he is loved, And tires the constant phrase "I love" to hear; But woman doubts the instrument is broke Unless she daily hear the sweet refrain.
annals calls history success thy whom won
Speak, History! Who are life's victors? Unroll thy long annals and say:Are they those whom the world calls the victors, who won the success of a day?
hate love turn
Hate me an hour, and then turn roundAnd love me truly, just one minute.
american-sculptor expression noble silent work
Of every noble work the silent part is best, Of all expression that which can not be expressed.
beauty cold gray haunted
But the gray and the cold are haunted By a beauty akin to pain, -- By a sense of a something wanted, That never will come again.
broken dreams stem
On the broken stem of dreams Only disappointments grow.
broken dreams stem
On the broken stem of dreamsOnly disappointments grow.
lost
We live as much in all that we have lost As what we own.