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Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;
For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.

— William Johnson Cory

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More quotes by William Johnson Cory

No race for girls, no apple bribes
To tempt an Atalanta.

Hersilia (1891)

You bid me lift my mean desires
From faltering lips and fitful veins
To sexless souls, ideal quires,
Unwearied voices, wordless strains

They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead,
They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed.

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Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: William Johnson Cory (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.