O Lord, Thou art my soul's beloved.
Who leaves Thee to make trial of another, let his face be blackened with dust and ashes.
To Thee would I sacrifice the whole world, were it but mine.
To the Hindu Rama, to the Turk Allah: in many ways they speak of Thee.
Where the two ways meet in one, there my heart sets her belief.

Thou art Eternal, Thou knowest all, in every heart Thy Presence dwells.
The Jogi, the pandit, the rich in bounty, searched on every side but never found the end.
Within the house all was illumined: Dharni saw it and was glad.

Closer, closer would I be
Drawn to Jesus, day by day,
Closer drawn to Him, and further
Drawn from sin and self away.
Closer, closer would I be,
Drawn, O Blessed One, to Thee!

Closer, closer would I be,
Closer to the Crucified,
Closer to the blood-stained Cross,
Closer to His bleeding side.
Closer, closer would I be,
Closer, closer, Lord, to Thee!

Closer, closer, closer, Jesus,
Draw me closer, closer still,
I am trusting, fully trusting,
For I know Thou canst and will.
Closer, closer unto Thee,
Blessed Jesus, let me be!

Alone she sat with her accusing heart,
That, like a restless comrade frightened sleep,
And every thought that found her, left a dart
That hurt her so, she could not even weep.

Her heart that once had been a cup well filled
With love's red wine, save for some drops of gall
She knew was empty; though it had not spilled
Its sweets for one, but wasted them on all.

She stood upon the grave of her dead truth,
And saw her soul's bright armor red with rust,
And knew that all the riches of her youth
Were Dead Sea apples, crumbling into dust.

Beauty, the attribute of Heaven!
In various forms to mortals given,
With magic skill enslaves mankind,
As sportive fancy sways the mind.
Search the wide world, go where you will,
Variety pursues you still;
Capricious Nature knows no bound,
Her unexhausted gifts are found
In ev'ry clime, in ev'ry face,
Each has its own peculiar grace.

—To Gallia's frolic scenes repair,
There reigns the tyny debonaire;
The mincing step—the slender waist,
The lip with bright vermilion grac'd:
The short pert nose—the pearly teeth,

Oh, it's move along, you dogies, don't be driftin' by th' way,
For there's goin' to be a round-up an' a cuttin'-out they say,
Of all th' devil's dogies an' a movin' at sunrise,
An' you'd better be preparin' fer a long drive to th' skies.

Oh, it's move along, you dogies, don't be driftin' by the way,
Fer th' boss of all th' rus'lers is a-comin' 'round to-day.
So you'd better be a-movin', throw your dust right in his eyes,
An' hit th' trail a-flyin' fer th' home-ranch in th' skies.

So it's move along, you dogies, fer th' devil has in hand

How long the echoes love to play
Around the shore of silence, as a wave
Retreating circles down the sand!
One after one, with sweet delay,
The mellow sounds that cliff and island gave,
Have lingered in the crescent bay,
Until, by lightest breezes fanned,
They float far off beyond the dying day
And leave it still as death.
But hark,—
Another singing breath
Comes from the edge of dark;
A note as clear and slow
As falls from some enchanted bell,
Or spirit, passing from the world below,
That whispers back, Farewell.

The healthfull mind that muses & inhales
The green eyed dews of morning finds his way
To paradise Gods choice selfplanted vales
The dewy breath of flowers the gales that play
Around them like sleep wakeing half the day
Morning luxuriant in green juicey strife


Health to faint love & happiness to life.

O the first days of summer—mornings blush
Is rife with healthy freshness hung with dew
To dip your hand into a wet rose bush
& crop the fairest flower that ever grew
Pearled with the silver shine of morning dew

I saw a rose come loupin' oot
Frae a camsteerie plant.
O wha'd ha'e thocht yon puir stock had
Sic an inhabitant?

For centuries it ran to waste,
Wi' pin-heid flooers at times.
O'ts hidden hert o' beauty they
Were but the merest skimes.

Yet while it ran to wud and thorns,
The feckless growth was seekin'
Some airt to cheenge its life until
A' in a rose was beekin'.

‘Is there nae way in which my life
Can mair to flooerin’ come,
And bring its waste on shank and jags
Doon to a minimum?

‘It's hard to struggle as I maun

Dear , not tomorrow but today
Give me the laggard word I crave.
Love is no jewel put away
In velvet silence; wear it brave
Upon your bosom, joy-entwined.
Oh, hasten, hasten to be kind.

Come, honor love with use today;
Make it a gift and not a debt.
See how the hours speed away;
Shall each be laden with regret?
Beauty was made not for the blind;
Then hasten, hasten to be kind.

I suffer now, but how much more
Shall you, when, in Time's retrospect,
You shall your cruelty deplore
On which your happiness was wrecked?

What miracle was it that made this grey Rathgar
Seem holy earth, a leaping-place from star to star?
I know I strode along grey streets disconsolate,
Seeing nowhere a glimmer of the Glittering Gate,
My vision baffled amid many dreams, for still
The airy walls rose up in fabulous hill on hill.
The stars were fortresses upon the dizzy slope
And one and all were unassailable by hope.
And then I turned and looked beyond high Terenure
Where the last jewel breath of twilight floated pure,
As if god Angus there, with his enchanted lyre,