Seek not my name-it doth no virtue… Seek, seek thine own primeval name… The name God called when thy idea… Arose in deeps of the eternal mind… When that thou findest, thou art s…

The homely words how often read! How seldom fully known! ‘Which father of you, asked for br… Would give his son a stone?’ How oft has bitter tear been shed,

Uplifted is the stone And all mankind arisen! We are thy very own, We are no more in prison! What bitterest grief can stay

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

In the desert by the bush, Moses to his heart said Hush David on his bed did pray; God all night went not away.

Win’ that blaws the simmer plaid Ower the hie hill’s shoothers laid… Green wi’ gerse, an’ reid wi’ heat… Welcome wi’ yer sowl-like weather! Mony a win’ there has been sent

‘They have no more wine!’ she said… But they had enough of bread; And the vessels by the door Held for thirst a plenteous store: Yes,

If I did seem to you no more Than to myself I seem, Not thus you would fling wide the… And on the beggar beam! You would not don your radiant bes…

When God’s own child came down to… High heaven was very glad; The angels sang for holy mirth; Not God himself was sad! Shall we, when ours goes homeward,…

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…

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,

O Lord, if on the wind, at cool o… I heard one whispered word of migh… If through the darkness, as in bed… But once had come a hand upon my f… If but one sign that might not be…

Oh! is it Death that comes To have a foretaste of the whole? To-night the planets and the stars Will glimmer through my window-bar… But will not shine upon my soul!

My Lily snatches not my gift; Glad is she to be fed, But to her mouth she will not lift The piece of broken bread, Till on my lips, unerring, swift,

It is May, and the moon leans dow… Over a blossomy land; Leans from her window a lady white… With her cheek upon her hand. ‘Oh, why in the blue so misty, moo…