English

Now is the time to decide for Christ,
Now is the precious hour
When you may taste his love unpriced,—
Know of his grace and pow'r!
Now while he waits with pardon free,
Now while he waits to gracious be,
Now is the Father's accepted time,
When he will gracious be;
Now his kind heart in pity yearns
O'er your impurity;
Now while he is so very near,
Now while you bow repentant here,
Now is the time of your deepest need,
Now the propitious day,
When the dear Lord will save indeed,
Taking your guilt away,

Let me love bright things
Before my life is over . . .
Moons, and shining wings
Of bees about the clover.

Bathers in seas;
Cities by night;
Tall rainy trees;
Yellow candle-light.

And long sunlit lands
That lie anywhere;
And one with white hands
To comb her gleaming hair!

When the yellow bird's note was almost stopped;
And half formed the green plum's fruit,
Sitting and grieving that spring things were over,
I rose and entered the Eastern Garden's gate.
I carried my cup and was dully drinking alone:
Suddenly I heard a knocking sound at the door.
Dwelling secluded, I was glad that someone had come;
How much the more, when I saw it was Ch'en Hsiung!
At ease and leisure,—all day we talked;
Crowding and jostling,—the feelings of many years.
How great a thing is a single cup of wine!

Behind her big fan,
With its storks and pagoda,
What a nook for a man!
Behind her big fan
My enchantment began,
Till my whole heart I showed her
Behind her big fan,
With its storks and pagoda.

unmind
of small
potatoes,
obstacle
course,
the proliferation
mindless,
the writing

And it's never mind, never mind, baby
I've got my doggone eyes on you
And it's never mind, never mind, baby
got my eyes on you
And some old day, pretty baby
do like I want you to do

When I was sick and down
you drove me from your door
I was sick and down, baby
drove me from your door
Now you know how I was a poor man
sleeping out in the ice and snow

Yes, baby
I'm gonna see you when you, baby,
do something I swear is wrong
See you, baby,
when you do something I swear is wrong

The solid world of sense dissolves away;
The forest swoons; the mountains swing and sway;
The sea becomes a blue amorphous mist,
Like vapours of a melted amethyst;
The whole round globe is as a bubble blown;
Nothing seems real save your soul alone.
For through your lucent eyes our dazzled sight
Espies the glimmer of immortal light;
And through your eyelid lilies sees enshrined
The deathless lilies of Eternal Mind,
And all things seem unreal and untrue
Beside the bright apocalypse of you.

Go , little boy,
Fill thee with joy;
For Time gives thee
Unlicensed hours,
To run in fields,
And roll in flowers.

A little boy
Can life enjoy;
If but to see
The horses pass,
When shut indoors
Behind the glass.

Go, little boy,
Fill thee with joy;
Fear not, like man,
The kick of wrath,
That you do lie
In some one's path.

Time is to thee
Eternity,
As to a bird
Or butterfly;
And in that faith
True joy doth lie.

In each man's heart that doth begin
To love, there's ever fram'd within
A little world, for so I found,
When first my passion reason drown'd.

Instead of earth unto this frame,
I had a faith was still the same;
For to be right it doth behoove
It be as that, fixt and not move;

Yet as the earth may sometime shake
(For winds shut up will cause a quake),
So, often jealousy and fear,
Stol'n into mine, cause tremblings there.

My Flora was my sun, for as
One sun, so but one Flora was:

Convention shut him close inside
A narrow, four-walled cell;
Civilization held the key,
And he was guarded well.

He never tried to break lock-step,
He kept a steady pace;
No signs of wrath or mutiny
Were ever on his face.

He set a good example, too,
Before imprisoned men,
And so one day the pardoning board
Said, “Let him out again.”

And now he is as free as clouds
That drift above my head;
No regulations bind his soul—
But men say, “He is dead!”