William Winter (author) (1836 – 1917)
American dramatic critic and author, born in Gloucester, Mass.
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His love was like the liberal air,—
Embracing all, to cheer and bless;
And every grief that mortals share
Found pity in his tenderness.
Fierce for the right, he bore his part
In strife with many a valiant foe;
But Laughter winged his polished dart,
And kindness tempered every blow.
When will the dead world cease to dream,
When will the morning break?
White sail upon the ocean verge,
Just crimsoned by the setting sun,
Thou hast thy port beyond the surge,
Thy happy homeward course to run
And winged hope, with heart of fire,
To gain the bliss of thy desire.
The golden time of Long Ago.
Though all the bards of earth were dead,
And all their music passed away,
What Nature wishes should be said
She’ll find the rightful voice to say.
Ambition has but one reward for all:
A little power, a little transient fame,
A grave to rest in, and a fading name.
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