The sun is sinking in the west, Long grow the shadows dim; Have patience, sister, to be blest… Wait patiently for Him. Thou knowest love, much love hast…

An unborn bird lies crumpled and c… A-dreaming of the world. Round it, for castle-wall, a shell Is guarding it well. Hope

O Lord, I cannot but believe The birds do sing thy praises then… And they are lying seed-sown land… Their little bosoms breeding songs… If thou hadst finished me, O Lord…

Nobody knows the world but me. The rest go to bed; I sit up and… I’m a better observer than any of… For I never look out till the twi… And never then without green glass…

Still flowed the music, flowed the… The youth in silence went; Through naked streets, in cold moo… His homeward way he bent, Where, on the city’s seaward line,

‘Death, whaur do ye bide, auld De… ‘I bide in ilka breath,’ Quo’ Death; ‘No i’ the pyramids, No whaur the wormie rids

Yes, Master, when thou comest tho… A little faith on earth, if I am… Thou know’st how oft I turn to th… How sad I wait until thy face app… Hast thou not ploughed my thorny g…

O Father, I am in the dark, My soul is heavy-bowed: I send my prayer up like a lark, Up through my vapoury shroud, To find thee,

First, most, to thee, my son, I g… In which a friend’s and brother’s… With mine; for not son only-brothe… Art thou, through sonship which no… Between the eyes that in each othe…

From Schiller ‘Which of you, knight or squire, w… Plunge into yonder gulf? A golden beaker I fling in it-the… The black mouth swallows it like a…

O Thou that walkest with nigh hop… Past the one harbour, built for th… Doth no stray odour from its table… No truant beam from fire or candle… At his wide door the host doth sta…

All sights and sounds of day and y… All groups and forms, each leaf an… Are thine, O God, nor will I fea… To talk to thee of them .

There may be seeming calm above, b… There is a pulse below which cease… A subterranean working, fiery hot, Deep in the million-hearted bosom,… Earthquakes unlock not the prodigi…

‘WHO is this little one lying,’ Said Time, ‘at my garden-gate, Moaning and sobbing and crying, Out in the cold so late?’ ‘They lurked until we came near,