Poem by Robert Seymour Bridges

* * *

I love all beauteous things,
I seek and adore them;
God hath no better praise,
And man in his hasty days
Is honoured for them.

I too will something make
And joy in the making!
Altho' tomorrow it seem'
Like the empty words of a dream
Remembered, on waking. 

1. To Catullus
2. To Joseph Joachim
3. Pater Filio
4. Low Barometer
5. Emily Bronte

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