Works

And Joanna, the wife of Chuza, Herod's steward, and Susanna and many others who ministered unto him of their substance. Luke 8:3. Mark 14:3-9. John 12:3-8. Matthew 26:6-13. Luke 7:37-50. John 11:3.

...

Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn,
Grew lean while he assailed the seasons;
He wept that he was ever born,
And he had reasons.

Miniver loved the days of old...

I sit once more on breezy shore, at sunset in this glorious June,
I hear the dip of gleaming oar, I list the singers' merry tune.
Beneath my feet the waters beat, and ripple on the polished stones,...

"And Jesu called a little child unto him."
MATT. xviii. 2.


Oh, my blossom, my darling, whose dimpled hands are cold!
Oh, my baby, my treasure, laid under the green mould!...

Minnie and Winnie
Slept in a shell.
Sleep, little ladies!
And they slept well.

Pink was the shell within,
Silver without;
Sounds of the great sea
Wander'd about.
...

Where the willow weepeth
By a fountain lone, -
Where the ivy creepeth
O'er a mossy stone, -
With pale flowers above her,
In a quiet dell.
Far from those who love her,
Slumbers Minniebel.
...

Her eyes of bright unwinking glaze
All imperturbable do not
Even make pretences to regard
The justing absence of her stays,
Where many a Tyrian gallipot
Excites desire with spilth of nard....

(The Dictionary Of National Biography)

Sitting at times over a hearth that burns
With dull domestic glow,
My thought, leaving the book, gratefully turns
To you who planned it so.
...

The minstrels played their Christmas tune
To-night beneath my cottage-eaves;
While, smitten by a lofty moon,
The encircling laurels, thick with leaves,
Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen,...

For ever, since my childish looks
Could rest on Nature's pictured books;
For ever, since my childish tongue
Could name the themes our bards have sung;
So long, the sweetness of their singing...

Aw'm wearily trudgin throo mire an weet,
For aw've finished another day's wark;
An welcome to me is that flickerin leet,
'At shines throo mi winder i'th' dark.
Aw know ther's mi drinkin just ready o'th' hob,...

What matters if some fowk deride,
An point wi' a finger o' scorn?
Th' time wor tha wor lukt on wi' pride,
Befooar mooast o'th' scoffers wor born.
But aw'll ne'er turn mi back on a friend,...

There lives a goddess in the West,
An island in death-lonesome seas;
No towered towns are hers confessed,
No castled forts and palaces.
Hers, simple worshipers at best,
The buds, the birds, the bees....

Why! who makes much of a miracle?
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,...

Love met a worldling on the way,
And softly crept into his breast.
Straight Self and Greed refused to stay
Where Love had dared to make his nest.

Love met a mourner on the road,...

The intense focus of light
but pointillism,
into this juncture bits of light
surround rough, inverted sky -
dawn is their message
unfurled about
the alumni apparatus
of incensed eyes...

When the beautiful mountain ash is turning -
As lovely a sight as the eyes desire;
When the leaves of the sumac bush are burning,
Like the steady flame of a winter fire;...

Scene, the Arizona Desert, its most desolate part.



He closed his eyes, yet still could see
The leprous hills loom thirstily;
The mesquit glimmering; and the dust...

The hope I dreamed of was a dream,
Was but a dream; and now I wake,
Exceeding comfortless, and worn, and old,
For a dream's sake.

I hang my harp upon a tree,
A weeping willow in a lake;...

I.

'Tis a legend of a lover,
'Tis a ballad to be sung,
In the gloaming, - under cover, -
By a minstrel who is young;
By a singer who has passion, and who sways us with his tongue.

...