sometimes a huge wave of thought
carries me away
from where I am

I can look at myself
face to face and at a distance,
jail and horizon

over there I,
cut loose from time,
deny my fate of death

here I feel
my wide forehead
a shore of eternity

Ever he would roam
Toward th' eternal home;
From the least life deep in ocean
To each gleam of stars in motion,
Worth of all he weighed.
Now the Lord lends aid.

Still he passed beyond,
Softly dreaming; fond
Nature met him as her lover.
God with strength his soul shall cover
'Mid the starry throng
Through the spheres' pure song.

Even here on earth
Harmony's sweet birth—
When discovery new truth sunders,
When the small reveals its wonders—
Filled his soul with song
For the ages long.

este árbol
que se agranda desde mí
no es fantasma de las horas,
es cuerpo con raíces en lo eterno

esta sombra
no es aquella de la muerte,
es dulce mano
de caricia indefinible

este silencio
no es preludio de la nada,
es piel profunda
de presencia indescifrada

When Norse nature's dower
 Tones will paint with power,
There is more than mountain-heights that tower,—
 Plains spread wide-extending,
 Whereon at their wending
Summer nights soft dews are sending.

 Forests great are growing,
 And in long waves going
Glommen's valley fill to overflowing,—
 There are green slopes vernal,
 Glad with joy fraternal,
Open to the light supernal.

 For revealing wholly
 All things fine and holy—
As in sunshine birds are soaring slowly,
 Or, their spells transmitting,

Summer mountains —
praying to the tall clogs
at journey's start.

In all the land our race was once excelling.
In richer regions it e'en now possesses
Broad seats and fruitful; but by fate's hard stresses
Our branch was bent and bowed to blows compelling.
Now toward the light again it lifts aloft
Its top, and fresh buds crown it, fair and soft.
The flowing fountain of your faith has laved it,
To life's late evening thus your strength has saved it.

As rests the race in time of chill and rigor,
And from the deeps that lie within its being
Draws to it what alone can nourish, freeing

As on I drive, in my heart joy dwells
Of Sabbath silence with sound of bells.
The sun lifts all that is living, growing,
God's love itself in its symbol showing.
To church pass people from near and far,
Soon psalms ascend from the door ajar.
—Good cheer! Your greeting hailed more than me,
But that in hastening you failed to see.

Here's goodly company with me riding,
Though oft they cunningly keep in hiding;
But when you saw me so Sunday-glad,
It was because of the mates I had.
And when you heard me so softly singing,

I passed by the house one summer day,
Morning sunshine upon it lay;
Toward the windows that blood-red burned
Flaming my soul was turned, was turned.
There spring had found me
And captive bound me
To lissome hands and soft lips enthralling,
To smiles now stained by the teardrops falling.

Till the view from my vision dies,
To it backward I send my eyes;
All that was becomes new and near,
The forgotten grows warm and dear;
Mem'ries wander,
While this I ponder,
And from the springtime all love's sweet dreaming

( To Bert Stevens )

I read a song the other day that seemed to echo one of mine,
Of long ago and far away — on other coasts in Auld Lang Syne —
And yet the scene is just the same; and yet the Bush and yet the Range;
And yet the face and yet the name — but things are changed! O how they change!

We sought to learn and not to teach; we sung of then and long ago —
Bare-legged boys on Manly Beach of thirty years of age or so.
Our furthest cape was Middle Head, our furthest camp the Fairy Glen —

Spring going —
birds crying and tears
in the eyes of the fish.