Lord, may I be
A sparrow in a tree.

No ominous and splendid bird of prey
But something that is fearful every day
Yet keeps its small flesh full of heat and lightness.
Pigeons are better dressed and robins stouter,
The white owl has all winter in his whiteness
And the blue heron is a kingly dream
At evening, by the pale stream,
But, even in the lion's cage, in Zoos,
You'll find a sparrow, picking up the crumbs
And taking life precisely as it comes
With the black, wary eye that marks the doubter;
Squabbling in crowds, dust-bathing in the sun,

The Evening colts did lonely neigh,
As Plango with Philænis lay
And showed her how to win a place
In the great sporting bare-backed race.
So now as guerdon for her pains,
This purple whip and shining reins
To Venus' portals she doth bring
And begs thee take her offering,
Praying thee, gracious queen, that she
May ever win Love's victory.

Spring and the flowers return. The world is gay,
—Once more the old sun on the ancient earth
—Shines forth and brings a million buds to birth.
Where are those sons of ours we sent away?
Spring and the flowers return—but where are they?

Tarry, hard Winter, ice-bound, stiff, and gray,
—Thou art as we are, full of darkest fears,
—Weep with us—let us feel thy chilly tears!
We are not fit for joy. We can but say,
“Spring and the flowers return—but where are they?”

Blessed his lot, who praises Hari: in the balance none with him can weigh.
In the balance none outweighs him, who is ever Hari's slave.
He that at His feet takes refuge, is of Rama the chosen servant.
His servant, faithful in His service, to him is given the pass to Bhagti.
Joga is the reward of service, and Bhagti is the Lord's abode.
Puran-Brahma alone, O Bhikha, there is One and not a second.
Blest his lot, who praises Hari: in the balance none with him can weigh.

Tell her, oh, tell her, the lute she left lying
Beneath the green arbor is still lying there;
And breezes like lovers around it are sighing,
But not a soft whisper replies to their prayer.

Tell her, oh, tell her, the tree that, in going,
Beside the green arbor she playfully set,
As lovely as ever is blushing and blowing,
And not a bright leaflet has fallen from it yet.

So while away from that arbor forsaken,
The maiden is wandering, still let her be
As true as the lute that no sighing can waken
And blooming for ever, unchanged as the tree!

this bluffer's diary
has no more space for me

Water and windmills, greenness, Islets green; —
Willows whose Trunks beside the shadows stood
Of their own higher half, and willowy swamp: —
Farmhouses that at anchor seem'd — in the inland sky
The fog-transfixing Spires —
Water, wide water, greenness and green banks,
And water seen —
[August 1828. From ms]

What shall I wish thee?
Treasures of earth?
Songs in the springtime?
Pleasure and mirth?
Flowers on the pathway?
Skies ever clear?
Would this ensure thee
A Happy New Year?

What shall I wish thee?
What can be found
Bringing thee sunshine
All the year round?
Where is the treasure,
Lasting and dear,
That shall ensure thee
A Happy New Year?

Faith that increaseth,
Walking in light;
Hope that aboundeth,
Happy and bright;
Love that is perfect,
Casting out fear;
These shall ensure thee
A Happy New Year.

Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, Love Divine;
Love was born at Christmas,
Star and Angels gave the sign.

Worship we the Godhead,
Love Incarnate, Love Divine;
Worship we our Jesus:
But wherewith for sacred sign?

Love shall be our token,
Love be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and all men,
Love for plea and gift and sign.

“Father,” began the growing youth,
“Your pleading finds me deaf;
Although I know you speak the truth
About the course at Shef.
But think you that I have no pride,
To follow such a trail?
I cannot be identified
With Princeton or with Yale.”

“Father,” began another lad,
Emerging from his prep;
“I know you are a Princeton grad,
But the coaches have no pep.
But though the Princeton profs provide
Fine courses to inhale;
I cannot be identified
With Princeton or with Yale.”

“I know,” he said, “that Learning helps