Now in his word, sole, ruminating, joy'd
That blessed spirit; and I fed on mine,
Tempting the sweet with bitter: she meanwhile,
Who led me unto God, admonish'd: "Muse
On other thoughts: bethink thee, that near Him
I dwell, who recompenseth every wrong."

At the sweet sounds of comfort straight I turn'd;
And, in the saintly eyes what love was seen,
I leave in silence here: nor through distrust
Of my words only, but that to such bliss
The mind remounts not without aid. Thus much
Yet may I speak; that, as I gaz'd on her,
Affection found no room for other wish.
While the everlasting pleasure, that did full
On Beatrice shine, with second view
From her fair countenance my gladden'd soul
Contented; vanquishing me with a beam
Of her soft smile, she spake: "T...

God's grace deserves here to be daily fed
That, thus increased, it might be perfected.

    Gently lead me, Star Divine,
        Lead with bright unchanging ray;
    O'er my lowly pathway shine,
        I shall never lose my way;
    Though uncertain be my tread,
Pitfalls deep, and mountains high,
    Safely shall my feet be led,
        By Thy beacon, in the sky.

    Long ago, while journeying
        Westward, o'er the desert wild,
    Sages sought a promised King
        In the person of a child;
    By Thy bright illuminings,
        To that manger, in the fold,
    Thou did'st lead those shepherd kings;
        Lead me, as Thou lead'st of old.

With wisdom far beyond her years,
And graver than her wondering peers,
So strong, so mild, combining still
The tender heart and queenly will,
To conscience and to duty true,
So, up from childhood, Mary Grew!

Then in her gracious womanhood
She gave her days to doing good.
She dared the scornful laugh of men,
The hounding mob, the slanderer's pen.
She did the work she found to do,
A Christian heroine, Mary Grew!

The freed slave thanks her; blessing comes
To her from women's weary homes;
The wronged and erring find in her
Their censor mild and comforter.
The world were safe if but a few
Could grow in grace as Mary Grew!

So, New Year's Eve, I sit and say,
By this low wood-fire, ashen gray;
Just wishing, as the night shuts down...

Thank God for dreams! I, desolate and lone,
    In the dark curtained night, did seem to be
The centre where all golden sun-rays shone,
    And, sitting there, held converse sweet with thee.
No shadow lurked between us; all was bright
    And beautiful as in the hours gone by,
I smiled, and was rewarded by the light
    Of olden days soft beaming from thine eye.
Thank God, thank God for dreams!

I thought the birds all listened; for thy voice
    Pulsed through the air, like beat of silver wings.
It made each chamber of my soul rejoice
    And thrilled along my heart's tear-rusted strings.
As some devout and ever-prayerful nun
    Tells her bright beads, and counts them o'er and o'er,
Thy golden words I gathered, one by one,
    And slipped them into memo...

There are some souls
Whose lot it is to set their hearts on goals
That adverse Fate controls.

While others win
With little labor through life's dust and din,
And lord-like enter in

Immortal gates;
And, of Success the high-born intimates,
Inherit Fame's estates. . .

Why is't the lot
Of merit oft to struggle and yet not
Attain? to toil for what?

Simply to know
The disappointment, the despair and woe
Of effort here below?

Ambitious still to reach
Those lofty peaks, which men aspiring preach,
For which their souls beseech:

Those heights that swell
Remote, removed, and unattainable,
Pinnacle on pinnacle:

Still yearning to attain
Their far repose, above life's stress and strain,
But all in ...

‘Yes, write it in the rock!’ Saint Bernard said,
‘Grave it on brass with adamantine pen!
‘’Tis God himself becomes apparent, when
‘God’s wisdom and God’s goodness are display’d,

‘For God of these his attributes is made.’
Well spake the impetuous Saint, and bore of men
The suffrage captive; now, not one in ten
Recalls the obscure opposer he outweigh’d.

God’s wisdom and God’s goodness! Ay, but fools
Mis-define these till God knows them no more.
Wisdom and goodness, they are God! what schools

Have yet so much as heard this simpler lore?
This no Saint preaches, and this no Church rules;
’Tis in the desert, now and heretofore.

Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes,
In whose orbs a shadow lies
Like the dusk in evening skies!

Thou whose locks outshine the sun,
Golden tresses, wreathed in one,
As the braided streamlets run!

Standing, with reluctant feet,
Where the brook and river meet,
Womanhood and childhood fleet!

Gazing, with a timid glance,
On the brooklet's swift advance,
On the river's broad expanse!

Deep and still, that gliding stream
Beautiful to thee must seem,
As the river of a dream.

Then why pause with indecision,
When bright angels in thy vision
Beckon thee to fields Elysian?

Seest thou shadows sailing by,
As the dove, with startled eye,
Sees the falcon's shadow fly?

Hearest thou voices on the shore,
That ...

Upon his sculptured judgment throne the Roman Ruler sate;
His glittering minions stood around in all their gorgeous state;
But proud as were the noble names that flashed upon each shield -
Names known in lofty council halls as well as tented field -
None dared approach to break the spell of deep and silent gloom
That hover'd o'er his haughty brow, like shadow of the tomb.

While still he mused the air was rent with loud and deaf'ning cry,
And angry frown and darker smile proclaimed the victim nigh.
No traitor to his native land, no outlaw fierce was there,
'Twas but a young and gentle girl, as opening rose bud fair,
Who stood alone among those men, so dark and full of guile,
And yet her cheek lost not its bloom, her lips their gentle smile.

At length he spoke, that rut...

    I just think that dreams are best,
    Just to sit and fancy things;
    Give your gold no acid test,
    Try not how your silver rings;
    Fancy women pure and good,
    Fancy men upright and true:
    Fortressed in your solitude,
    Let Life be a dream to you.

    For I think that Thought is all;
    Truth's a minion of the mind;
    Love's ideal comes at call;
    As ye seek so shall ye find.
    But ye must not seek too far;
    Things are never what they seem:
    Let a star be just a star,
    And a woman - just a dream.

    O you Dreamers, proud and pure,
    You have gleaned the sweet of life!
    Golden truths that shall endure
    Over pain and doubt and strife.
    I would rather be a fool
    Living in my ...