How hard the shower falls
Upon the lovely pinks!

Oh, beautiful peonies! — for love of which
Even Kusunoki took off his armour.

When I first loved, I loved a wraith,
Yet in my youth I still have faith,
For though dark mills were thundering 'round
I met my love on Roman ground.
Through her I learned to know the peace
Of balance, journeying through Greece,
Then stars above Arabia's dearth
Brought unity to my vexed earth,
And while in England, hand in hand,
I learned to love the love of land,
And everything was in her kiss
My starving city did not miss.

For she was lovely, thin and lithe,
And supple as a willow withe,
Although her youth was very old,

I love the world, as does any dancer,
with the tips of my toes. I love the world
more than I love my wife, for it contains
more crannies and crevasses, it tenders
more textures to my twenty digits' touch.
Lush grass underfoot after April rain,
a pile of petals fallen from a rose,
sun-seared sidewalk in summer, sand, fresh-turned
garden dirt, and, yes, her hummocked ankle
rubbed by the ball of my foot as she sleeps.

Do justice! while the slender thread
Above thine own unsheltered head
Restrains the wrath thy breath might free.
" Do justice! " Justice asks of thee!

Love mercy! while no heavenward prayer
Unblessed by blessing enters there,
That mercy may unmeasured be.
" Love mercy! " Mercy asks of thee!

Walk humbly! let the desert dusk
O'er buried pride and broken trust
Bear foot-prints of humility.
" Walk humbly, " God requires of thee!

" Do justice, " by thy sins forgiven,
" Love mercy, " by thy hopes of heaven,

HERALD

A Queen elect! and Loyalty again
Wakes like a blossom to the summer rain!
Defiled how long! in dust and darkness hid;
As dead as Cheops in his pyramid!
Kings in their time and demagogues to-day,
Baser than swine, have cast that pearl away!
Yet Spring returns, and Loyalty again
Feels the old rapture kindling in each vein;
Biding its time, as Heaven ordains the hours,
It waits to crown the worthiest with flowers.

CROWN

Queen of a proud and immemorial line,

I send our youngest rosebud; and
'Twill wither ere it kiss thy hand.

Also, from our cedar tree,
A plume to outlive chivalry!

So love has knit in one small nest,
The toughest and the tenderest!

Oh! love—love well, but only once! for never shall the dream
Of youthful hope return again on life's dark rolling stream—
No love can match the early one which young affection nurs'd;
Oh, no—the one you loved the best, is she you loved the first.

Once lost—that gladsome vision past—a fairer form may rise,
And eyes whose lustre mocks the light of starry southern skies,
But vainly seek you to enshrine the charmer in your breast,
For still the one you loved the first, is she you loved the best.

How are they waned and faded from our hearts,
The old companions of our early days!
Of all the many loved, which name imparts
Regret when blamed, or rapture at its praise?
What are their several fates, by Heaven decreed,
They of the jocund heart, and careless brow?
Alas! we scarcely know and scarcely heed,
Where, in this world of sighs, they wander now.

See, how with cold faint smile, and courtly nod,
They pass, whom wealth and revelry divide —
Who walked together to the house of God,
Read from one book, and rested side by side;

All praise to Him of Nazareth,
The Holy One who came,
For love of man, to die a death
Of agony and shame.

Dark was the grave; but since he lay
Within its dreary cell,
The beams of heaven's eternal day
Upon its threshold dwell.

He grasped the iron veil, he drew
Its gloomy folds aside,
And opened, to his followers' view,
The glorious world they hide.

In tender memory of his grave
The mystic bread we take,
And muse upon the life he gave
So freely for our sake.

A boundless love he bore mankind;