Alone she sat with her accusing heart, That, like a restless comrade frightened sleep, And every thought that found her, left a dart That hurt her so, she could not even weep. ...
God finished woman in the twilight hour And said, 'To-morrow thou shalt find thy place: Man's complement, the mother of the race - With love the motive power - The one compelling power.' ...
Whoever was begotten by pure love, And came desired and welcome into life, Is of immaculate conception. He Whose heart is full of tenderness and truth, Who loves mankind more than he loves himself,...
Musing upon the tragedies of earth, Of each new horror which each hour gives birth, Of sins that scar and cruelties that blight Life's little season, meant for man's delight,...
You may talk of reformations, of the Economic Plan, That shall stem the Social Evil in its course; But the Ancient Sin of nations, must be got at in THE MAN. If you want to cleanse a river, seek the source. ...
The woman who looks upon man as a sinner Unsaved as to soul, and uncertain in heart, Should learn how to cook, and prepare him a dinner, And serve it with talent, refinement, and art....
Who thinks how desolate and strange To me must seem the autumn's change, When housed in attic or in chest, A lonely and unwilling guest, I lie through nights of bleak December,...
I set out for the Land of Content, By the gay crowded pleasure-highway, With laughter, and jesting, I went With the mirth-loving throng for a day; Then I knew I had wandered astray,...
I set out for the Land of Content, By the gay crowded pleasure-highway, With laughter, and jesting, I went With the mirth-loving throng for a day; Then I knew I had wandered astray,...
It was long, long ago that a soul like a flower Unfolded, and blossomed, and passed in an hour. It was long, long ago; and the memory seems Like the pleasures and sorrows that come in our dreams. ...
Now is the time when India is gay With wedding parties; and the radiant throngs Seem like a scattered rainbow taking part In human pleasures. Dressed in bright array,...
Here in my cosy corner, Before a blazing log, I'm thinking of cold London Wrapped in its killing fog; And, like a shining beacon Above the picture grim, I see the London 'Bobby,'...
A curious vision on mine eyes unfurled In the deep night. I saw, or seemed to see, Two Centuries meet, and sit down vis-a-vis Across the great round table of the world:...
Good-bye to the cradle, the dear wooden cradle The rude hand of Progress has thrust it aside. No more to its motion o'er sleep's fairy ocean, Our play-weary wayfarers peacefully glide. ...
Arise, O master artist of the age, And paint the picture which at once shall be Immortal art and bless'd prophecy. The bruised vision of the world assuage;...
How will Christ come back again, How will He be seen, and where, Where His chosen way? Will He come in dead of night, Shining in His robes of light, Or at dawn of day? ...
Now, dear, it isn't the bold things, Great deeds of valour and might, That count the most in the summing up of life at the end of the day. But it is the doing of old things,...