Poems of many years


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Sida 95 - If you have no power of giving ; — An arm of aid to the weak ; — A friendly hand to the friendless ; — Kind words so short to speak, But whose echo is endless — The world is wide ; these things are small ; They may be nothing, but they are all.
Sida 5 - I SEE the Moon, and the Moon sees me; God bless the Moon, and God bless me ! — OLD RHYME.
Sida 105 - On that deep-retiring shore Frequent pearls of beauty lie, Where the passion-waves of yore Fiercely beat and mounted high : Sorrows that are sorrows still Lose the bitter taste of woe ; Nothing's altogether ill In the griefs of Long-ago. Tombs where lonely love repines, Ghastly tenements of tears, Wear the look of happy shrines Through the golden mist of years : Death, to those who trust in good, Vindicates his hardest blow; Oh ! we would not, if we could, Wake the sleep of Long-ago...
Sida 13 - His impassioned eye had got Fire which the sun has not ; Silk to feel, and gold to see, Fell his tresses full and free, Like the morning mists that glide Soft adown the mountain's side ; Most delicious 'twas to hear When his voice was trilling clear As a silver-hearted bell, Or to follow its low swell, When, as dreamy winds that stray Fainting 'mid...
Sida 96 - And a terrible heart-thrill, If you have no power of giving: An arm of aid to the weak, A friendly hand to the friendless, Kind words, so short to speak, But whose echo is endless: The world is wide, — these things are small, They may be nothing, but they are All.
Sida 105 - Though the doom of swift decay Shocks the soul where life is strong, Though for frailer hearts the day Lingers sad and overlong, — Still the weight will find a leaven, Still the spoiler's hand is slow, While the Future has its Heaven, And the Past its Long-ago.
Sida 12 - We' had stayed him with their flowing. It was as an earthquake, when We awoke and found him gone, We were miserable men, We were hopeless, every one ! Yes, he must have gone away In his guise of every day, In his common dress, the same...
Sida 27 - Let us go forth, and resolutely dare, With sweat of brow, to toil our little day, — And if a tear fall on the task of care, In memory of those spring-hours past away, Brush it not by ! Our hearts to God ! to brother-men Aid, labor, blessing, prayer, and then To these a sigh ! VOL.
Sida 100 - A man's best things are nearest him, Lie close about his feet, It is the distant and the dim That we are sick to greet : For flowers that grow our hands beneath We struggle and aspire, — Our hearts must die, except they breathe The air of fresh Desire.
Sida 7 - Pause and luxuriate in thy sunny plain ; Loiter, — enjoy : Once past, Thou never wilt come back again, A second Boy. The hills of Manhood wear a noble face, When seen from far ; The mist of light from which they take their grace Hides what they are. The dark and weary path those cliffs between Thou canst not know, And how it leads to regions never-green, Dead fields of snow.

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