In pity first to human kind,
Love taught the art of writing;
But soon deceit stepped in, we find,
And taught man false inditing.

False vows, false words, nay e'en false tears,
Soon after were invented;
And Love from each account appears
Almost to have repented

That he disclosed the magic art,
At first for gods intended,
By which he thought the virgin heart
Would be so much befriended.

What vows, what sighs on paper flow,
In words as sweet as honey!
They melt away like now-fall'n snow,

In the heart of June, love,
You and I together,
On from dawn till noon, love,
Laughing with the weather;
Blending both our souls, love,
In the selfsame tune,
Drinking all life holds, love,
In the heart of June.

In the heart of June, love,
With its golden weather,
Underneath the moon, love,
You and I together.
Ah! how sweet to seem, love,
Drugged and half aswoon
With this luscious dream, love,
In the heart of June.

1. To thee, Eternal Soul, be praise! Who, from of old to our own days
2. We thank thee for each mighty one Through whom thy living light hath shone;
Through souls of saints and prophets, Lord, Hast sent thy light, thy love, thy word.
And for each humble soul and sweet That lights to heaven our wandering feet.

3. We thank thee for the love divine
Made real in every saint of thine;
That boundless love itself that gives
In service to each soul that lives.

4. We thank thee for the word of might
Thy Spirit spake in darkest night,

Why forms discuss, if that the soul is fled?
Is the communion in the wine and bread;
Or in the loving hearts, that would draw near
A dying Savior's last command to hear?
Ah, still have met again that little band,
And in their midst the Savior still doth stand:
Where Love doth break the bread and pour the wine,
And they are one in fellowship divine.
How few this fellowship of love profess!
How few a dying Savior's name confess!
For what are rites and forms? an empty show,
If we their meaning, life, have ceased to know.

I love the light, when first its beams
Steal o'er the earth and sky;
And gently wake the slumbering world,
And bid the shadows fly.

I love the light of noon-day sun,
Its full, effulgent ray;
That floods the earth, and sea, and sky,
And brings the perfect day.

I love the light of sunset hour,
Which lingers in the west;
Which soothes the weary heart and mind,
And gives the laborer rest.

I love the moon's soft, silvery light,
The light of stars, that keep
Their watches o'er a weary world,

To stones trust not your monument
To make a living fame endure.
Who built Dun Angus battlement?
O'Flaherty is forgotten in Auchnanure.

And he who told how Troy was sacked
And what men clipt the lovely Burd,
Had seven Mayors to swear, in fact,
Their towns first heard his babbling word.

Far off I see, like a dim cloud, the hills,
Which, in my youth, I climbed with daring feet;
Whose memory still my mind with grandeur fills,
And pleasant thoughts of love and friendship sweet.
But nearer do the humble hill-tops rise,
On which my childhood loved to sit and stray;
Gazing on pastures wide, on sea and skies,
Lit by the sun's bright beams, or moon's soft ray.
And many a merry voice and sunny face
Of early playmates round my happy home
Come back to me, as the green paths I trace,
And craggy cliffs, 'mid which we loved to roam;

IMITATED

LIGHT falls the rain-drop on the fallen leaf,
And light o'er harvest-plain and garnered sheaf —
But lightlier falls the touch of loving hands.

Light falls the dusk of mild midsummer night,
And light the first star's faltering lance of light
On glimmering lawns, — but lightlier loving hands.

And light the feathery flake of early snows,
Or wisp of thistle-down that no wind blows,

AH! at last alone, love!
Now the band may play
Till its sweetest tone, love,
Swoons and dies away!
They who most will miss us
We're not caring for —
Who of them could kiss us
In the corridor?

Had we only known, dear,
Ere this long delay,
Just how all alone, dear,
We might waltz away,
Then for hours, like this, love,
We are longing for,
We'd have still to kiss, love,
In the corridor!

Nestle in my heart, love;
Hug and hold me close —
Time will come to part, love,
Ere a fellow knows;

I

To love thee brings me sadness, for I know
each time the time will never come again,—
that every moment brings the darker stain
of riper manhood. Liker as we grow,
Love stirs his wings, impatient to remain.

II

Each night of love from such a love doth part
thy forward-looking self. At each remove
from boyhood thou art further from my love,
though nearer to the knowledge of my heart.
Love joineth us the closer to dispart.

III