Astounded, to the guardian of my steps
I turn'd me, like the chill, who always runs
Thither for succour, where he trusteth most,
And she was like the mother, who her son
Beholding pale and breathless, with her voice
Soothes him, and he is cheer'd; for thus she spake,
Soothing me: "Know'st not thou, thou art in heav'n?
And know'st not thou, whatever is in heav'n,
Is holy, and that nothing there is done
But is done zealously and well? Deem now,
What change in thee the song, and what my smile
had wrought, since thus the shout had pow'r to move thee.
In which couldst thou have understood their prayers,
The vengeance were already known to thee,
Which thou must witness ere thy mortal hour,
The sword of heav'n is not in haste to smite,
Nor yet doth linger, save unto ...

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

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...

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 ...

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...

    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.

    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 ...

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 ...

‘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.

"For he looked for a city that hath foundations, whose Maker and Builder is God."


I.

Somewhere, I know, there waits for me
    A home that mocks the pomp of Earth,
Eye hath not seen its majesty,
    Nor heart conceived its priceless worth, -
Talk not of crystal, gems, or gold,
    Or towers that flame in changeless light,
Imagination, weak and cold,
    Faints far below the unmeasured height!
And through its open doors for aye,
    As ages after ages glide,
Without a moment's pause or stay,
    Flows grandly in the living tide -
Brothers, redeemed ones, pressing home
    From every clime, from every shore,
Beneath that fair celestial dome
    Meet to be parted nevermore!


II.

Somewhere, I know, there waits for ...