[FOR A BIRTHDAY: MAY 20]


On this day to life she came -
May-Rose, my May-Rose!
With scented breeze, with flowered flame,
She touched the earth and took her name
                Of May, Rose.

Here, to-day, she grows and flowers -
May-Rose, my May-Rose.
All my life with light she dowers,
And colors all the coming hours
                With May, Rose!

Happily I had a sight
Of my dearest dear last night;
Make her this day smile on me,
And I'll roses give to thee!

        "Delicta juventutis et ignorantius ejus,
            quoesumus ne memineris, Domine."



        I left, to earth, a little maiden fair,
        With locks of gold, and eyes that shamed the light;
        I prayed that God might have her in His care
            And sight.

        Earth's love was false; her voice, a siren's song;
        (Sweet mother-earth was but a lying name)
        The path she showed was but the path of wrong
            And shame.

        "Cast her not out!" I cry.    God's kind words come --
        "Her future is with Me, as was her past;
        It shall be My good will to bring her home
            At last."

Let me be warm, let me be fully fed,
Luxurious love by wealth is nourished.
Let me be lean, and cold, and once grown poor,
I shall dislike what once I lov'd before.

Unbind thee, love, unbind thee, love,
    From those dark ties unbind thee;
Tho' fairest hand the chain hath wove,
    Too long its links have twined thee.
Away from earth!--thy wings were made
    In yon mid-sky to hover,
With earth beneath their dove-like shade,
    And heaven all radiant over.

Awake thee, boy, awake thee, boy,
    Too long thy soul is sleeping;
And thou mayst from this minute's joy
    Wake to eternal weeping.
Oh, think, this world is not for thee;
    Tho' hard its links to sever;
Tho' sweet and bright and dear they be,
    Break or thou'rt lost for ever.

Ingratitude! of earth the shame!
Thou monster, at whose hated name,
    The nerves of kindness ake;
Would I could drive thee from mankind,
By telling how a grateful mind,
    Once dignified a snake.

The tale is antient, and is sweet,
To mortals, who with joy repeat,
    What soothes the feeling heart;
The first of virtues, that may boast
The power to soothe, and please it most,
    Sweet gratitude, thou art.

The reptile, whom thy beauties raise,
Has an unquestion'd claim to praise,
    That justice will confirm!
The Muses, with a graceful pride,
May turn from thankless man aside,
    To celebrate a worm!

In Arcady, grave authors write,
There liv'd a Serpent, the delight,
    Of an ingenuous child;
Proud of his kindnes...

    If Love were all, how dark the world!
        What sorrow for the stricken heart!
            If Love were all, with Love grown cold -
            No tempest raging bleak and bold,
    Its icy fury ever hurled
        As madly as the storms that dart
            Across the soul when Love is dead.
            Poor soul, on bitter passion fed,
            Seeing in Earth or Heaven - no bliss,
            When Love has died in Love's last kiss.
    If Love were all!

    If Love were all, how fair the earth!
        What joy in every heart-throb here!
            If Love were all, and Love were kind,
            Love's message, blown on every wind,
    Thrilling the soul, would give small worth
        To cringing caution, or the jeer
            Of...

Mother of Him we call the Christ,
No halo round thy brows we paint,
Incense and prayer we offer not,
Nor mind to title thee as saint.

And yet, no woman’s name, of all
With honour from the ages sent,
Mary, is aureoled like thine,
With love and grief and glory blent!

Oh wisely was it that He chose,
Who the unwritten future reads,
To teach the after-world, through thee,
What cherishers Messiah needs.

Thou heard’st the angel’s prophecy,
The tidings which the shepherds brought,
Anna and Simeon praising God,
And saw’st that star the Wise Men sought!

Ah, who of us could bear, like thee,
With meekness, God’s triumphal light;
Then, still believing, with His Charge,
At midnight take an exile’s flight?

Throughout the Son’...

When Summer on the earth was queen
She held her court in gardens green
Fair hung with tapestry of leaves,
Where threads of gold the sun enweaves
With checquered patterns on the floor
Of velvet lawns the scythe smoothes o'er:
Their waving fans the soft winds spread
Each way to cool Queen Summer's head:
The woodland dove made music soft,
And Eros touched his lute full oft.


Round Time's dial thronged the hours,
Masking in the Masque of Flowers


Like knights and ladies fair be-dight
In silk attire, both red and white.


And as the winds about them played,
And shook the flowers or disarrayed,


A whispered word among them goes
Of how the Lily flouts the Rose,


Suitors for Summer's favor dear,
To w...

I

There was an ancient City, stricken down
With a strange frenzy, and for many a day
They paced from morn to eve the crowded town,
And danced the night away.

I asked the cause: the aged man grew sad:
They pointed to a building gray and tall,
And hoarsely answered "Step inside, my lad,
And then you'll see it all."


Yet what are all such gaieties to me
Whose thoughts are full of indices and surds?

x*x + 7x + 53 = 11/3

But something whispered "It will soon be done:
Bands cannot always play, nor ladies smile:
Endure with patience the distasteful fun
For just a little while!"

A change came o'er my Vision, it was night:
We clove a pathway through a frantic throng:
The steeds, wild-plunging, filled us with affright:<...

Why, when I hear the stormy breath
Of the wild winter wind
Rushing o'er the mountain heath,
Does sadness fill my mind?

For long ago I loved to lie
Upon the pathless moor,
To hear the wild wind rushing by
With never ceasing roar;

Its sound was music then to me;
Its wild and lofty voice
Made by heart beat exultingly
And my whole soul rejoice.

But now, how different is the sound?
It takes another tone,
And howls along the barren ground
With melancholy moan.

Why does the warm light of the sun
No longer cheer my eyes?
And why is all the beauty gone
From rosy morning skies?

Beneath this lone and dreary hill
There is a lovely vale;
The purling of a crystal rill,
The sighing of the gale,

The s...

Ho! sportsman Time, whose chargers fleet
    The moments, madly driven,
Beat in the dust beneath their feet
    Sweet hopes that years have given;
Turn, turn aside those reckless steeds,
    Oh! do not urge them my way;
There's nothing that Time wants or needs
    In this contented by-way.

You have down-trodden, in your race,
    So much that proves your power,
Why not avoid my humble place?
    Why rob me of my dower?
With your vast cellars, cavern deep,
    Packed tier on tier with treasures,
You would not miss them should I KEEP
    My little store of pleasures.

As one who, frightened, flying, flings
    Her riches down at random,
Your course is paved with precious things
    Life casts before your tandem:
The warrior's fame,...

I asked the heaven of stars
What I should give my love,
It answered me with silence,
Silence above.

I asked the darkened sea
Down where the fishers go,
It answered me with silence,
Silence below.

Oh, I could give him weeping,
Or I could give him song,
But how can I give silence,
My whole life long?

Concealed within the shady wood
    A mother left her sleeping child,
And flew, to cull her rustic food,
    The fruitage of the forest wild.

But storms upon her pathway rise,
    The mother roams, astray and weeping;
Far from the weak appealing cries
    Of him she left so sweetly sleeping.

She hopes, she fears; a light is seen,
    And gentler blows the night wind's breath;
Yet no--'tis gone--the storms are keen,
    The infant may be chilled to death!

Perhaps, even now, in darkness shrouded,
    His little eyes lie cold and still;--
And yet, perhaps, they are not clouded,
    Life and love may light them still.

Thus, Cara, at our last farewell,
    When, fearful even thy hand to touch,
I mutely asked those eyes to tell

O eyes that strip the souls of men!
There came to me the Magdalen.
Her blue robe with a cord was bound,
Her hair with Lenten lilies crowned.
"Arise," she said "God calls for thee,
Turned to new paths thy feet must be.
Leave the fever and the feast
Leave the friend thou lovest best:
For thou must walk in barefoot ways,
To give my dear Lord Jesus praise."

Then answered I--"Sweet Magdalen,
God's servant, once beloved of men,
Why didst thou change old ways for new,
Thy trailing red for corded blue,
Roses for lilies on thy brow,
Rich splendour for a barren vow?"

Gentle of speech she answered me:-
"Sir, I was sick with revelry.
True, I have scarred the night with sin,
A pale and tawdry heroine;
But once I heard a voice that said
...

I send you here a sort of allegory–
For you will understand it–of a soul,
A sinful soul possess’d of many gifts,
A spacious garden full of flowering weeds,
A glorious devil, large in heart and brain,
That did love beauty only–beauty seen
In all varieties of mould and mind–
And knowledge for its beauty; or if good,
Good only for its beauty, seeing not
That Beauty, Good, and Knowledge are three sisters
That doat upon each other, friends to man,
Living together under the same roof,
And never can be sunder’d without tears.
And he that shuts Love out, in turn shall be
Shut out from Love, and on her threshold lie
Howling in outer darkness. Not for this
Was common clay ta’en from the common earth
Moulded by God, and temper’d with the tears
Of angels to the ...

The greatest words are always solitaires,
    Set singly in one syllable; like birth,
    Life, love, hope, peace.    I sing the worth
Of that dear word toward which the whole world fares -
    I sing of home.

To make a home, we should take all of love
    And much of labour, patience, and keen joy;
    Then mix the elements of earth's alloy
With finer things drawn from the realms above,
    The spirit home.

There should be music, melody and song;
    Beauty in every spot; an open door
    And generous sharing of the pleasure store
With fellow-pilgrims as they pass along,
    Seeking for home.

Make ample room for silent friends - the books,
    That give so much and only ask for space.
    Nor let Utility crowd out the vase
Which ha...

My little joys went by me
As little children run
Across the fields at sunset
When playing time is done.

And now alone at twilight
What is there may content
The heart that loved their laughter
And frolic merriment?

Ah well, who knows but still may dawn
Another fairer day
Wherein my little joys may come
A-dancing out to play.