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Reflections on a lonely Hill, which commanded the prospect of a Burying ground

Here museful Thought and Contemplation dwell;
Here Silence spreads her horrors round;
Hark! the dull tinkling stream from yonder cell!
The soul recoils at every sound!

Startled, I view new phantoms round me rise,
And seem to chide my dull delay;
View yonder spot where human greatness lies;
Thus all must moulder and decay.

Hark! from afar the solemn sounding bell
Fills the dull ear with plaints of woe;
'Tis Death awakes, and spreads the warning knell;
Through the sad gates the mourners flow.

The Chant of the Woman

Clash the cymbals!
String the harp and sound it—
Cymbals and harp, there, you Makers of Music!

I will chant to my Comrade the chant of my being,
Woman to Man will I chant it.

I am as old as any. I too have a lineage
I have come up by forms and through æons;
Forms of manifold fashion, æons of infinite dream.

I, too, am projected of Poets, offspring of the Singers:
I have lain in the womb of the World and incarnate its wonder—
I have played with the Child of the ages and captured its glee—
I have been kissed with the kisses of Kings—

Rosa Mystica

Our Lady is the mystic rose that bloomed in Nazareth
Against whose blessèd heart there lay the Lord of life and death.

She is the rose without a thorn that grew on Jesse's stem,
The Rose of roses on her breast was lulled in Bethlehem.

To this white rose at God's command the Angel Gabriel came,
With promise of the Blessèd One and message of His Name.

Our Lady is the pale pink rose in whom all fragrance lies,
Her summer was in Jesus' kiss, her sunshine in His eyes.

She is the golden-hearted rose that held our perfect joy;

The Fairest, brightest, hues of ether fade

The fairest, brightest, hues of ether fade;
The sweetest notes must terminate and die;
O Friend! thy flute has breathed a harmony
Softly resounded through this rocky glade;
Such strains of rapture as the Genius played
In his still haunt on Bagdad's summit high;
He who stood visible to Mirza's eye,
Never before to human sight betrayed.
Lo, in the vale, the mists of evening spread!
The visionary Arches are not there,
Nor the green Islands, nor the shining Seas;
Yet sacred is to me this Mountain's head,
Whence I have risen, uplifted on the breeze

Ung ie Servirey

To serue but one, a constant courage showes,
Who serueth more, he rightly serueth none:
Base is the minde that bends to many Bowes,
Next God, a Prince we ought obey but one.
One God, one Prince, he serues, defends and feares,
Vng ie seruirey, for his worde that beares.

A Poem

When I to you of all my woes complain,
Which you make me endure without release;
With scornful smiles you answer me again,
“That lovers true must bear and hold their peace.”
Dear, I will bear, and hold my peace, if you
Will hold your peace, and bear what I shall do.

Sonnet

I am not moved to love thee, my Lord God,
By the heaven thou hast promised me;
I am not moved by the sore dreaded hell
to forbear me from offending thee.

I am moved by thee, Lord; I am moved
at seeing thee nailed upon the cross and mocked;
I am moved by thy body all over wounds;
I am moved by thy dishonor and thy death.

I am moved, last, by thy love, in such a wise
that though there were no heaven I still should love thee,
and though there were no hell I still should fear thee.

I need no gift of thee to make me love thee;

Honey Bear

There was a big bear
Who lived in a cave;
His greatest love
Was honey.
He had twopence a week
Which he never could save,
So he never had
Any money.
I bought him a money box
Red and round,
In which to put
His money.
He saved and saved
Till he got a pound,
Then spent it all
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