On the king’s gate the moss grew gray;
More quotes by Helen Hunt Jackson
Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame;
Each to his passion; what's in a name?
When love is at its best, one loves
So much that he cannot forget.
But great loves, to the last, have pulses red;
All great loves that have ever died dropped dead.
The voice of one who goes before to make
The paths of June more beautiful, is thine
Sweet May!
All Helen Hunt Jackson quotes →
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Attribution
Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Helen Hunt Jackson (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.