Lie still and rest, in that serene… That on this holy morning comes to… Who have been burdened with the ca… The sad heart weary and the tired… Lie still and rest -

A Tribute To The Policemen Of E… Here in my cosy corner, Before a blazing log, I’m thinking of cold London Wrapped in its killing fog;

Along a narrow Moorish street A blue-eyed soldier strode. (Ah, well-a-day.) Veiled from her lashes to her feet She stepped from her abode,

If all the ships I have at sea Should come a-sailing home to me, From sunny lands, and lands of col… Ah well! the harbor could not hold So many sails as there would be

Uncle Rob says: Once the daisies all were white, Till a baby fellow Ate his supper down one night, And stained his face all yellow.

I left the farm when mother died a… To daughter Susie’s stylish house… And there was them before I came… How I would find the town folks’… They said I’d have no comfort in…

The Truth Teller lifts the curtai… And shows us the people’s plight; And everything seems uncertain, And nothing at all looks right. Yet out of the blackness groping,

The days grow shorter, the nights… The headstones thicken along the w… And life grows sadder, but love gr… For those who walk with us day by… The tear comes quicker, the laugh…

We two make home of any place we g… We two find joy in any kind of wea… Or if the earth is clothed in bloo… If summer days invite, or bleak wi… What matters it if we two are toge…

The Radiant Ruler of Mystic Regi… Where souls of artists are fitted… Gathered together their lovely leg… And fashioned a woman to shine on… They bathed her in splendor

MORTAL: “The night is cold, the hour is la… Who is it knocking at my door?” THE NEW YEAR: “I am Good Cheer.”

With brooding mien and sultry eyes… Outside the gates of Paradise Eve sat, and fed the faggot flame That lit the path whence Adam cam… (Strange are the workings of a wom…

If I should die, how kind you all… In that strange hour I would not… There are no words too beautiful t… Of one who goes forevermore away Across that ebbing tide which has…

GOOD-BYE to the cradle, the dea… The rude hand of Progress has thr… No more to its motion o’er sleep’s… Our play-weary wayfarers peacefull… No more by the rhythm of slow-movi…

If I should die, to-day, To-morrow, maybe, the world would… Would waken from sleep, and say, “Why here was talent! why here was… Why here was a luminous light o’ t…