I cannot write old verses here, Dead things a thousand years away, When all the life of the young yea… Is in the summer day. The roses make the world so sweet,

Back shining from the pane, the fi… Seems outside in the snow: So love set free from love’s desir… Lights grief of long ago. The dark is thinned with snow-shee…

I shall be satisfied With the seeing of thy face. When I awake, wide-eyed, I shall be satisfied With what this life did hide,

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 Peter, wherefore didst thou dou… Indeed the spray flew fast about, But he was there whose walking foo… Could make the wandering hills tak… And he had said, ‘Come down to me…

’Tis a poor drizzly morning, dark… The cloud has fallen, and filled w… The chimneyed city; and the smoke… And spreads diluted in the cloud,… A black precipitate, on miry stree…

In God alone, the perfect end, Wilt thou find thyself or friend.

First came the red-eyed sun as I… He smote me on the temples and I… Casting the night aside and all it… And I would spurn my idleness, an… My own wild journey even like him,…

They come to thee, the halt, the m… The devil-torn, the sick, the sore… Thy heart their well of life they… Thine ear their open door. Ah, who can tell the joy in Pales…

When the clock hath ceased to tick Soul-like in the gloomy hall; When the latch no more doth click Tongue-like in the red peach-wall; When no more come sounds of play,

Look! look there! Send your eyes across the gray By my finger-point away Through the vaporous, fumy air. Beyond the air, you see the dark?

There was an auld fisher, he sat b… An’ luikit oot ower the sea; The bairnies war playin, he smil’t… But the tear stude in his e’e. An’ it’s-oh to win awa, awa!

Heaven and the sea attend the dyin… And in their sadness overflow and… Faint gold, and windy blue, and gr… Far out amid them my pale soul I… For, as they mingle, so mix life a…

The mountain-stream may humbly boa… For her the loud waves call; The hamlet feeds the nation’s host… The home-farm feeds the hall; And unto earth heaven’s Lord doth…

They all were looking for a king To slay their foes, and lift them… Thou cam’st a little baby thing That made a woman cry. O son of man, to right my lot