As Jesus went into Jericho town, Twas darkness all, from toe to cro… About blind Bartimeus. He said, ‘My eyes are more than d… They are no use for seeing him:

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

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

The warl it’s dottit wi’ hames As thick as gowans o’ the green, Aye bonnier ilk ane nor the lave To him wha there opent his een. An’ mony an’ bonny’s the hame

What life it is, and how that all… With outward maker’s force, or lik… Sir Philip Sidney’s Arcadia To L.P.M.D.

The monk was praying in his cell, With bowed head praying sore; He had been praying on his knees For two long hours and more. As of themselves, all suddenly,

A broken tale of endless things, Take, lady: thou art not of those Who in what vale a fountain spring… Would have its journey close. Countless beginnings, fair first p…

’Tis time to sleep, my little boy: Why gaze thy bright eyes so? At night our children, for new joy Home to thy father go, But thou art wakeful! Sleep, my c…

The fact which suggested this poem… Blue sky above, blue sea below, Far off, the old Nile’s mouth, ’Twas a blue world, wherein did bl… A soft wind from the south.

Would-be prophets tell us We shall not re-know Them that walked our fellows In the ways below! Smoking, smouldering Tophets

A child was born in sin and shame, Wronged by his very birth, Without a home, without a name, One over in the earth. No wifely triumph he inspired,

Chained is the Spring. The Night… Blows over the hard earth; Time is not more confused and cold… Nor keeps more wintry mirth. Yet blow, and roll the world about…

To My Father Take of the first fruits, father,… Wrapped in the fresh leaves of my… Late waked for early gifts ill und… Claiming in all my harvests rightf…

This is the sweetness of an April… The softness of the spring is on t… Of the old year. She has no natur… But something comes to her from fa… Out of the Past, and on her old d…