He who by a mother’s love Made the wandering world his own, Every year comes from above, Comes the parted to atone, Binding Earth to the Father’s thr…

The hinges are so rusty The door is fixed and fast; The windows are so dusty The sun looks in aghast: Knock out the glass, I pray,

It’s all very well, Said the Bell, To be the big Organ below! But the folk come and go, Said the Bell,

Power that is not of God, however… Is but the downward rushing and th… Of a swift meteor that hath lost i… In the one impulse which doth anim… The parent mass: emblem to me of f…

In the winter, flowers are springi… In the winter, woods are green, Where our banished birds are singi… Where our summer sun is seen! Our cold midnights are coeval

Above my head the great pine-branc… Backwards and forwards each to the… Beckoning the tempest-cloud which… Like a slow-laboured thought, heav… Hark to the patter of the coming s…

Autumn clouds are flying, flying O’er the waste of blue; Summer flowers are dying, dying, Late so lovely new. Labouring wains are slowly rolling

When things are holding wonted pac… In wonted paths, without a trace Or hint of neighbouring wonder, Sometimes, from other realms, a to… A scent, a vision, swift, alone,

Thou foldest me in sickness; Thou callest through the cloud; I batter with the thickness Of the swathing, blinding shroud: Oh, let me see thy face,

If thou hadst been a sculptor, wha… Of forms divine had thenceforth fi… Methinks I see thee, glorious wor… Striking a marble window through b… Thy face’s reflex on the coming fa…

To My Father Take of the first fruits, father,… Wrapped in the fresh leaves of my… Late waked for early gifts ill und… Claiming in all my harvests rightf…

Annie she’s dowie, and Willie he’… What can be the matter wi’ siccan… For Annie she’s fair as the first… And Willie he’s honest and stalwa… Oh, the tane has a daddy is poor a…

When the snow is on the earth Birds and waters cease their mirth… When the sunlight is prevailing Even the night-winds drop their wa… On the earth when deep snows lie

Well for youth to seek the strong, Beautiful, and brave! We, the old, who walk along Gently to the grave, Only pay our court to thee,

Come to me, come to me, O my God; Come to me everywhere! Let the trees mean thee, and the g… And the water and the air! For thou art so far that I often…