There is beauty without fashion,
There is beauty without art
In the pure and simple passion
Of a tender loving heart.
There is beauty without art
In the pure and simple passion
Of a tender loving heart.
Be the passion love or pity,
Crowned with honor or with shame,
For a dreamland or a city
Still the lesson is the same;
For the spirit is immortal
And it shineth through the clay,
Like the sunlight through the portal
Of a dark and sombre day.
Crowned with honor or with shame,
For a dreamland or a city
Still the lesson is the same;
For the spirit is immortal
And it shineth through the clay,
Like the sunlight through the portal
Of a dark and sombre day.
A BOUTONNIERE
It is not that the flower is rare,
Because 'tis bright to see,
But that thy fingers placed it there,
Upon my coat for me;
For at thy touch the ugly tare
Would turn anemone.
Because 'tis bright to see,
But that thy fingers placed it there,
Upon my coat for me;
For at thy touch the ugly tare
Would turn anemone.
ONLY A SLENDER GRAVEN BAND
Only a slender graven band,
A tiny thing of gold,
I took it from my dead Love's hand
Her hand so white and cold.
A tiny thing of gold,
I took it from my dead Love's hand
Her hand so white and cold.
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