All overgrown with bush and fern, And straggling clumps of tangled trees, With trunks that lean and boughs that turn, Bent eastward by the mastering breeze, -...
The world is a snob, and the man who wins Is the chap for its money's worth: And the lust for success causes half of the sins That are cursing this brave old earth....
The mountains glitter in the snow A thousand leagues asunder; Yet here, amid the banquet's glow, I hear their voice of thunder; Each giant's ice-bound goblet clinks; A flowing stream is summoned;...
What makes the Healing Art divine? The bitter drug we buy and sell, The brands that scorch, the blades that shine, The scars we leave, the "cures" we tell?
Lord God of Hosts, whose mighty hand Dominion holds on sea and land, In Peace and War Thy Will we see Shaping the larger liberty. Nations may rise and nations fall,...
I Enchanter of Erin, whose magic has bound us, Thy wand for one moment we fondly would claim, Entranced while it summons the phantoms around us That blush into life at the sound of thy name. ...
These are the things I pray Heaven send us still, To blow the ashes of the years away, Or keep aglow forever 'neath their gray The fire that warms when Life's old house grows chill:...
Afar he sleeps whose name is graven here, Where loving hearts his early doom deplore; Youth, promise, virtue, all that made him dear Heaven lent, earth borrowed, sorrowing to restore. ...
A still procession goes Amid the battle's booming, Its arm the red cross shows; It prays in many forms of speech, And, bending o'er the fallen, Brings peace and home to each....
Forth from a jutting ridge, around whose base Winds our deep Vale, two heath-clad Rocks ascend In fellowship, the loftiest of the pair Rising to no ambitious height; yet both,...
Wearied of sinning, wearied of repentance, Wearied of self, I turn, my God, to Thee; To Thee, my Judge, on Whose all-righteous sentence Hangs mine eternity: I turn to Thee, I plead Thyself with Thee, -...
he Injian Ocean sets an' smiles So sof', so bright, so bloomin' blue; There aren't a wave for miles an' miles Excep' the jiggle from the screw. The ship is swep', the day is done,...
I have thrust my fists up to ice in the galactic mire of lake, lured my minnow wriggler eyes as bait to ensnare inroads, lake bed wreaths, across the windchill spine of brooding heart. ...
The embankment lies as heavy edges on our lives. The shadows of the rock, piled drifts huge monotony's ledge, accumulations by the side of the tree wear thin visages; the breath of summer eclipsed....