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Page 7 - BEN JONSON. She is the grace of all that are, The fragrancy of morn, The wild, blithe ring, afar, afar, Of Dian's horn. She is the hidden carol in The fringes of the wood, The sudden blue when clouds wax thin, The joy of good. May God who wrought our fleeting race Forbid her fatal star, Remembering she is the grace Of all that are.
Page 18 - We count them happy who have richly known The sweets of life, the sunshine on the hills, The mosses in the valley, love that fills The heart with tears as fragrant as thine own, O tender moonlight lily, over-blown, When the inevitable season wills, By gentle winds beside thy native rills — We count them happy, yet not these alone. There is a Crown of Thorns, Way of the Cross, Consuming Fire that burns the spirit pure. By luster of the gold set free from dross, By light of heaven seen best through...
Page 50 - ... and gold on willow-stem; The grief that chanced a-yesterday is silence that incloses Holy loves where time and change shall never trouble them. The rain that fell a-yesterday makes all the hillside glisten, Coral on the laurel and beryl on the grass; The grief that chanced a-yesterday has taught the soul to listen For whispers of eternity in all the winds that pass. O faint-of-heart, storm-beaten, this rain will gleam to-morrow, Flame within the columbine and jewels on the thorn, Heaven in the...
Page 9 - mid her celestial kin, Rainbow and Moon and Cloud, yet none the less Full many a weak earth-creature shelters in Her friendliness. She comrades with the child, the bird, the fern, Poet and sage and rustic chimney-nook, But Pomp must be a pilgrim ere he earn Her mountain look, — Her mountain look, the candor of the snow, The strength of folded granite, and the calm Of choiring pines whose swayed green branches strow A healing balm. Oft as the psalmist lifted up his eyes Unto the hills about Jerusalem,...
Page 10 - Love planted a rose, And the world turned sweet. Where the wheat-field blows Love planted a rose. Up the mill-wheel's prose Ran a music-beat. Love planted a rose, And the world turned sweet.
Page 1 - Beneath some foreign ajch of sky, How many a time the rover You or I, For life oft sundered look from look, And voice from voice, the transient dearth Schooling my soul to brook This distance that no messages may span, Would chance Upon our wilding by a lonely well, Or drowsy watermill, Or swaying to the chime of convent bell, Or where the nightingales of old romance With tragical contraltos fill Dim solitudes of infinite desire; And once I joyed to meet Our peasant gadabout A trespasser on trim,...
Page 66 - We know not whither beat Its wings, nor what defeat Death's mighty muffling glooms May cast on fluttering plumes, Or if it be success — That folded quietness. IV When like a flaming scroll Earth shrivels, if the soul Should those fierce heats outwear, What of ourselves were there? A longing bruised and dim, A seed of seraphim.
Page xix - YELLOW CLOVER MUST I, who walk alone, Come on it still, This Puck of plants The wise would do away with, The sunshine slants To play with, Our wee, gold-dusty flower, the yellow clover, Which once in parting for a time That then seemed long, Ere time for you was over, We sealed our own? Do you remember yet, O Soul beyond the stars, Beyond the uttermost dim bars Of space, Dear Soul who found earth sweet...
Page 15 - ... we lay Within the old, kind hands of Time, Who holds on his mysterious way From rime to bloom, from bloom to rime, And lets us run beside his knee O'er rough and smooth, and touch his load, And play we bear the burden, we, And revel in the changing road, Till ivory dawn and purple noon And...
Page 105 - By seven springs has your far grave been grassed, And in my depth of sorrow are astir New powers, perceptions, joys, against my earth Uppressing, secret agonies of birth, At bidding of their angel gardener : "The Life Eternal! Let us hold it fast!

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