A book has been made for the King, A book of beauty and art; To the good king's eyes A smile shall rise Hiding the ache in his heart - Hiding the hurt and the grief As he turns it, leaf by leaf....
Oh, I have n't got long to live, for we all Die soon, e'en those who live longest; And the poorest and weakest are taking their chance Along with the richest and strongest....
The little hands returning wistfully From birdlike wand'rings, ever come to rest, On fostering hand on tender cheek or breast; The upturned eyes, with loving certainty...
O child of mine, my little Son, alas! Beneath the sunlight of Thy gentle eyes, Too soon, too soon, what fateful shadows rise, Like night foretold in some sweet woodland glass?...
Behold! the Tabernacle of God's Will This woman's form enshrineth. What is this, More glorious than all our age-long bliss, Which shines within the shadow of her sill?...
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw, within the moonlight of his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold:-...
He halted in the wind, and, what was that Far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost? He stood there bringing March against his thought, And yet too ready to believe the most. ...
A blossom pink, a blossom blue, Make all there is in love so true. 'Tis fit, methinks, my heart to move, To give it thee, sweet girl, I love! Now, take it, dear, this morn and wear...
Abou Swen Anson (he ban yolly dog) Ban asleep von night so sound lak log, Ven all at vonce he tenk it sure ban day. "Ay skol vake op now," Maester Anson say. But, ven he vake, it ant ban day at all,...
I know in your song, dzhigit, there is A flame and love to the native land. But the warrior is famous not for his song: What tell me, have you done in the war? Have you stood up for your motherland...
One night Nurse Sleep held out her hand To tired little May. "Come, go with me to Wonderland," She said, "I know the way. Just rock-a-by - hum-m-m, And lo! we come...
A blanket low and leaden, Though rent across the west, Whose darkness seems to deaden The brightest and the best; A sunset white and staring On cloud-wrecks far away,...
There are scenes in the distance where beauty is not, On the desolate flats where gaunt appletrees rot. Where the brooding old ridge rises up to the breeze From his dark lonely gullies of stringy-bark trees,...
'Tis glorious morning everywhere Save where the alleys lie, I see the fleecy steam jets bid 'Good morning' to the sky. The gullies of the waratah Are near, with fall and pool,...
Honor and pity for the smitten field, The valorous ranks mown down like precious corn, Whose want must famish love morn after morn, Till Death, the good physician, shall have healed...
St. Francis, Buddha, Tolstoi, and St. John - Friends, if you four, as pilgrims, hand in hand, Returned, the hate of earth once more to dare, And walked upon the water and the land, ...