Bands of dark and bands of light Lie athwart the homeward way; Now we cross a belt of Night, Now a strip of shining Day! Now it is a month of June,

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!

In that high country whither thou… Right noble friend, thou walkest w… The gathered great of many a hundr… Few are left like thee-few, I say… Else were thy England soon a Baby…

‘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,

I missed him when the sun began to… I found him not when I had lost h… With many tears I went in search… Climbing high mountains which did… And gave me echoes when I called…

A fresh young voice that sings to… So often many a simple thing, Should surely not unanswered be By all that I can sing. Dear voice, be happy every way

If I were a monk, and thou wert a… Pacing it wearily, wearily, Twixt chapel and cell till day wer… Wearily, wearily– How would it fare with these heart…

A glory on the chamber wall! A glory in the brain! Triumphant floods of glory fall On heath, and wold, and plain. Earth lieth still in hopeless blis…

She sitteth at the Master’s feet In motionless employ; Her ears, her heart, her soul comp… Drinks in the tide of joy. Ah! who but she the glory knows

Brother artist, help me; come! Artists are a maimed band: I have words but not a hand; Thou hast hands though thou art du… Had I thine, when words did fail–

January 26, 1885 Gordon, the self-refusing, Gordon, the lover of God, Gordon, the good part choosing, Welcome along the road!

O God, whose daylight leadeth dow… Into the sunless way, Who with restoring sleep dost crow… The labour of the day! What I have done, Lord, make it c…

Be welcome, year! with corn and si… Make poor the body, but make rich… What man that bears his sheaves, g… Will heed the paint rubbed from hi… Nor leave behind thy fears and hol…

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,

Cold my heart, and poor, and low, Like thy stable in the rock; Do not let it orphan go, It is of thy parent stock! Come thou in, and it will grow