On the white throat of useless pas… That scorched my soul with its bur… I clutched my fingers in murderous… And gathered them close in a grip… For why should I fan, or feed wit…

O mother who sips sweetened liquor… Look down at the child on your bre… Think, think of the rough path bef… And ask yourself then, ‘Is it bes… Shall I foster a love for this po…

Talk happiness. The world is sad… Without your woes. No path is who… Look for the places that are smoot… And speak of those, to rest the we… Of Earth, so hurt by one continuo…

False! Good God, I am dreaming! No, no, it never can be– You who are so true in seeming, You, false to your vows and me? My wife and my fair boy’s mother

Alone she sat with her accusing he… That, like a restless comrade frig… And every thought that found her,… That hurt her so, she could not ev… Her heart that once had been a cup…

She must be honest, both in though… Of generous impulse, and above all… Not seeking praise, or place, or p… But life’s best blessings for her… Which means the best for all.

If you saw a lion Not within a cage, Would you tease and fret him Till he roared in rage? Would you tempt his anger

Came a bouquet from the city, Fragrant, rich and debonair - Sweet carnation and geraniium, Heliotrope and roses rare. Down beside the crystal river,

I am serenity. Though passions b… Like mighty billows on my helpless… I know beyond them lies the perfec… Serenity, which patience can impar… And when wild tempests in my bosom…

Why sit ye idly dreaming all the d… While the golden, precious hours f… See you not the day is waning, wan… That the morn’s already vanished i… When the glowing noon approaches,…

Who thinks how desolate and strang… To me must seem the autumn’s chang… When housed in attic or in chest, A lonely and unwilling guest, I lie through nights of bleak Dec…

Now ere I slept, my prayer had be… To do the will of Christ, our Lor… And with this prayer upon my lips… But suddenly the world of night a… From forest, and from slaughter ho…

The Day has never understood the… Though sired by one Creative Powe… The White Man ever fails to read… Though from the self-same Source… So deep and wide, the Great Divid…

Beside a crib that holds a baby’s… A tattered picture book, a broken… A sleeping mother dreams that she… Her fair-haired cherub boy. Upon the cradle’s side her light t…

I set out for the Land of Content… By the gay crowded pleasure-highwa… With laughter, and jesting, I wen… With the mirth-loving throng for a… Then I knew I had wandered astray…