To the Signora Cairoli




Blessed was she that bare,
Hidden in flesh most fair,
For all men’s sake the likeness of all love;
Holy that virgin’s womb,
The old record saith, on whom
The glory of God alighted as a dove;
Blessed, who brought to gracious birth
The sweet-souled Saviour of a man-tormented earth.



But four times art thou blest,
At whose most holy breast
Four times a godlike soldier-saviour hung;
And thence a fourfold Christ
Given to be sacrificed
To the same cross as the same bosom clung;
Poured the same blood, to leave the same
Light on the many-folded mountain-skirts of fame.



Shall they and thou not live,
The children thou didst give
Forth of thine hands, a godlike gift, t...

    An endless line of splendor,
    These troops with heaven for home,
    With creeds they go from Scotland,
    With incense go from Rome.
    These, in the name of Jesus,
    Against the dark gods stand,
    They gird the earth with valor,
    They heed their King's command.

    Onward the line advances,
    Shaking the hills with power,
    Slaying the hidden demons,
    The lions that devour.
    No bloodshed in the wrestling, -
    But souls new-born arise -
    The nations growing kinder,
    The child-hearts growing wise.

    What is the final ending?
    The issue, can we know?
    Will Christ outlive Mohammed?
    Will Kali's altar go?
    This is our faith tremendous, -
    Our wild hope, who shall scorn, -

Call on the present day and night for nought,
Save what by yesterday was brought.
-
THE sea is flowing ever,
The land retains it never.
-
BE stirring, man, while yet the day is clear;
The night when none can work fast Draweth near.
-
WHEN the heavy-laden sigh,
Deeming help and hope gone by,
Oft, with healing power is heard,
Comfort-fraught, a kindly word.
-
How vast is mine inheritance, how glorious and sublime!
For time mine own possession is, the land I till is time!
-
UNWARY saith, ne'er lived a man more true;
The deepest heart, the highest head he knew,
"In ev'ry place and time thou'lt find availing
Uprightness, judgment, kindliness unfailing."
-
THOUGH the bards whom the Orient sun bath bless'd
Are greater than we who dw...

Rejoice O my people! Jehovah hath spoken!
The dark chain of sin and oppression is broken;
Thy warfare is over, thy bondage is past,
The Lord hath looked down on his chosen at last.
A voice from the wilderness breaks on mine ear--
O Israel, rejoice! thy redemption is near:
A path for our God the wild desert shall yield;
He comes in the light of salvation revealed;
His word hath declared, who speaks not in vain;
He bends the high mountain, exalts the low plain;
All flesh shall behold him, far nations shall bring
Their glad songs of triumph to welcome their King!

    As the grass of the field in the morning is green,
So man, in his beauty and vigour, is seen
A perishing glory, the beam of a day,
A flower that will fade with the evening away:
The breath of t...

She stood up in the meekness of a heart
Resting on God, and held her fair young child
Upon her bosom, with its gentle eyes
Folded in sleep, as if its soul had gone
To whisper the baptismal vow in Heaven.
The prayer went up devoutly, and the lips
Of the good man glowed fervently with faith
That it would be, even as he had pray'd,
And the sweet child be gather'd to the fold
Of Jesus. As the holy words went on
Her lips mov'd silently, and tears, fast tears
Stole from beneath her lashes, and upon
The forehead of the beautiful child lay soft
With the baptismal water. Then I thought
That, to the eye of God, that mother's tears
Would be a deeper covenant, which sin
And the temptations of the world, and death
Would leave unbroken, and that she would know
In ...

Over the waves of the Western sea,
    Led by the hand of Hope she came -
The beautiful Angel of Liberty -
    When the sky was red with the sunset's flame, -
Came to a rocky and surf-beat shore,
    Lone, and wintry, and stern, and wild,
The waves behind her, and wastes before,
    And the Angel of Liberty, pausing, smiled.

"Here, O Sister, shall be our rest!"
    Softly she sang, and the waters shone
While a mellower radiance flushed the west,
    Lingering mountain and vale upon; -
Sweetly the murmurous melody blent
    With flow of rivers and woodland song,
And wandering breezes that singing went,
    Joyously wafted the notes along.

Acadia lifted her mist-wreathed brow,
    Westerly gazing with eager eye,
And lakes that sat in the su...

Keep pure the thoughts within thy mind,
    For they to actions turn,
Which succor want, or pity woe,
    Or all but self they spurn.

Keep pure thy thoughts, for outward looks
    Will then in beauty shine;
Although thy face be plain, 'twill be
    A human face divine.

Keep pure thy thoughts by trust in God,
    And, when in trouble's sea,
Look thou for strength to brave the storm,
    Upon thy bended knee.

Then lift thy head with fearless front,
    For come whatever may,
Thou'lt gather strength to brave it well,
    Thro' ev'ry passing day.

Keep pure thy heart, oh, keep it pure,
    And thou wilt bless the hour,
When thou withstood temptation's siege,
    And bridl'd passion's pow'r.

I.

Uplift a thousand voices full and sweet,
In this wide hall with earth’s invention stored,
And praise the invisible universal Lord,
Who lets once more in peace the nations meet,
Where Science, Art, and Labor have outpour’d
Their myriad horns of plenty at our feet.



II.

O silent father of our Kings to be,
Mourn’d in this golden hour of jubilee,
For this, for all, we weep our thanks to thee!



III.

The world-compelling plan was thine,–
And, lo! the long laborious miles
Of Palace; lo! the giant aisles,
Rich in model and design;
Harvest-tool and husbandry,
Loom and wheel and enginery,
Secrets of the sullen mine,
Steel and gold, and corn and wine,
Fabric rough, or fairy-fine,
Sunny tokens...

        God willed, who never needed speech,
                "Let all things be:"
        And, lo, the starry firmament
                And land and sea
        And his first thought of life that lives
                In you and me.

        His circle of eternity
                We see in part;
        Our spirits are his breath, our hearts
                Beat from his heart;
        Hence we have played as little gods
                And called it art.

        Lacking his power, we shared his dream
                Of perfect things;
        Between the tents of hope and sweet
                Rememberings
        Have sat in ashes, but our souls
                Went forth on wings.

        Where life fell short of some desire
...

Lady! who didst--with angel-look and smile,
And the sweet lustre of those dear, dark eyes,
Gracefully bend before the font of Christ,
In humble adoration, faith, and prayer!
Oh!--as the infant pledge of friends beloved
Received from thy pure lips its future name,
Sweetly unconscious look'd the baby-boy!
How beautifully helpless--and how mild!
--Methought, a seraph spread her shelt'ring wings
Over the solemn scene; and as the sun,
In its full splendour, on the altar came,
God's blessing seem'd to sanctify the deed.

Dead? or is it a dream
Only the voice of a dream?
Dead in the prime of his years,
And laid in the lap of the dust;
Only a handful of ashes
Moldering down into dust.

Strong and manly was he,
Strong and tender and true;
Proud in the prime of his years;
Strong in the strength of the just:
A heart that was half a lion's,
And half the heart of a girl;
Tender to all that was tender,
And true to all that was true;
Bold in the battle of life,
And bold on the bloody field;
First at the call of his country,
First in the front of the foe.
Hope of the years was his
The golden and garnered sheaves;
Fair on the hills of autumn
Reddened the apples of peace.

Dead? or is it a dream?
Dead in the prime of his years,
And laid in...

To seek of God more than we well can find,
Argues a strong distemper of the mind.

What is the gold of mortal-kind
To that men find
Deep in the poet's mind!
That magic purse
Of Dreams from which
God builds His universe!
That makes life rich
With, many a vision;
Taking the soul from out its prison
Of facts with the precision
A wildflower dons
When Spring comes knocking at the door
Of Earth across the windy lawns;
Calling to Joy to rise and dance before
Her happy feet:
Or with the beat
And bright exactness of a star,
Hanging its punctual point afar,
When Night comes tripping over Heaven's floor,
Leaving a gate ajar.
That leads the Heart from all its aching
Far above where day is breaking;
Out of the doubts, the agonies,
The strife and sin, to join with these
Hope and Beauty and Joy that build
Their ...

All my ways are before thee. Psalm 119:168.


Awake, O soul, awake!
Enter thy cell of thought,
And there in calmness meditate
On what God's word has taught.

There's nought within thy scope,
No influence thou hast sown,
No gloomy doubt, no joyful hope,
But unto him are known.

Awake! but grovel not
In ashes of despair,
Christ's precious blood can cleanse each spot;
Cast on him every care.

Before him are thy ways,
But in his mercy free
He further yet his love displays,
And intercedes for thee.

Awake to holy fear
And praise thy God on high;
Be it thy joy to praise him here
And praise him in the sky.

Better to smell a violet,
Than sip the careless wine;
Better to list one music tone,
Than watch the jewels' shine.

Better to have the love of one,
Than smiles like morning dew;
Better to have a living seed
Than flowers of every hue.

Better to feel a love within,
Than be lovely to the sight;
Better a homely tenderness
Than beauty's wild delight.

Better to love than be beloved.
Though lonely all the day;
Better the fountain in the heart,
Than the fountain by the way.

Better a feeble love to God,
Than for woman's love to pine;
Better to have the making God
Than the woman made divine.

Better be fed by mother's hand,
Than eat alone at will;
Better to trust in God, than say:
My goods my storehouse fill...

    This Poem, Dedicated to His Mother.


    To twilight heads comes Death as comes a friend,
    As with the gentle fading of the year
    Fades rose, folds leaf, falls fruit, and to their end
    Unquestioning draw near,
    Their flowering over, and their fruiting done,
    Fulfilled and finished and going down with the sun.

    But for June's heart there is no comforting
    When her full-throated rose
    Still quick with buds, still thrilling to the air,
    By some stray wind is tossed,
    Her swelling grain that goes
    Heavy to harvesting
    In a black gale is lost,
    And her round grape that purpled to the wine
    Is pinched by some chance frost.
    Ah, then cry out for that lost, lovely rose,
    For the stricken wheat, ...

In the journey of life, as we travel along
To the mystical goal that is hidden from sight,
You may stumble at times into Roadways of Wrong,
Not seeing the sign-board that points to the right.
Through caverns of sorrow your feet may be led,
Where the noon of the day will like midnight appear.
But no matter whither you wander or tread,
Keep out of the Valley of Fear.

The Roadways of Wrong will wind out into light
If you sit in the silence and ask for a Guide;
In the caverns of sorrow your soul gains its sight
Of beautiful vistas, ascending and wide.
In by-paths of worry and trouble and strife
Full many a bloom grows bedewed by a tear,
But wretched and arid and void of all life
Is the desolate Valley of Fear.

The Valley of Fear is a maddening maze

It may indeed be fantasy when I
Essay to draw from all created things
Deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings;
And trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie
Lessons of love and earnest piety.
So let it be; and if the wide world rings
In mock of this belief, it brings
Nor fear, nor grief, nor vain perplexity.
So will I build my altar in the fields,
And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be,
And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields
Shall be the incense I will yield to Thee,
Thee only God! and thou shalt not despise
Even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice.