No bird can sing in tune but that… Sits throned in equity above the h… And holds the righteous balance al… No heart can true response to love… Wherein from one to eight not ever…

Are the leaves falling round about The churchyard on the hill? Is the glow of autumn going out? Is that the winter chill? And yet through winter’s noise, no…

O lassie ayont the hill, Come ower the tap o’ the hill, Come ower the tap wi’ the breeze o… Bidena ayont the hill! I’m needin ye sair the nicht,

Days of old, Ye are not dead, though gone from… Ye are not cold, But like the summer-birds fled o’e… The sun brings back the swallows f…

‘Murmuring, ’twixt a murmur and mo… Many a tune in a single tone, For every ear with a secret true– The sea-shell wants to whisper to… ‘Yes-I hear it-far and faint,

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…

Lord Jesus, Oh, ease us Of Self that oppresses, Annoys and distresses Body and brain

Trust my father, saith the eldest-… I did trust him ere the earth bega… Not to know him is to be forlorn; Not to love him is-not to be man. He that knows him loves him altoge…

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,

To G.E.M. ’Tis a little room, my friend– Baby walks from end to end; All the things look sadly real This hot noontide unideal;

When thou turn’st away from ill, Christ is this side of thy hill. When thou turnest toward good, Christ is walking in thy wood. When thy heart says, ‘Father, par…

O Earth, Earth, Earth, I am dying for love of thee, For thou hast given me birth, And thy hands have tended me. I would fall asleep on thy breast

A gentle wind, of western birth On some far summer sea, Wakes daisies in the wintry earth, Wakes hopes in wintry me. The sun is low; the paths are wet,

Is there a secret Joy, that may n… For every flower that ends its lit… For every child that groweth up to… For every captive bird a cage doth… For every aching eye that went to…

What dost thou here, O soul, Beyond thy own control, Under the strange wild sky? 0 stars, reach down your hands, And clasp me in your silver bands,