‘Grant, Lord, her prayer, and let… She crieth after us.’ Nay, to the dogs ye cast it so; Serve not a woman thus. Their pride, by condescension fed,

Quiet, quiet dead, Have ye aught to say From your hidden bed In the earthy clay? Fathers, children, mothers,

Beautiful mother is busy all day, So busy she neither can sing nor s… But lovely thoughts, in a ceaseles… Through her eyes, and her ears, an… Motion, sight, and sound, and scen…

I would I were a child, That I might look, and laugh, and… And follow thee with running feet,… Be led through dark and wild! How I would hold thy hand,

I came upon a fountain on my way When it was hot, and sat me down t… Its sparkling stream, when all aro… I spied full many vessels made of… Whereon were written, not without…

My wife contrived a fleecy thing Her husband to infold, For ’tis the pride of woman still To cover from the cold: My daughter made it a new text

Roses all the rosy way! Roses to the rosier west Where the roses of the day Cling to night’s unrosy breast! Thou who mak’st the roses, why

Said the boy as he read, ‘I too w… I will fight for the truth and its… He went to the playground, and soo… A very cowardly story! Said the girl as she read, ‘That…

If thou art tempted by a thought o… Crave not too soon for victory, no… Thou art a coward if thy safety se… To spring too little from a righte… For there is nightmare on thee, no…

Power that is not of God, however… Is but the downward rushing and th… Of a swift meteor that hath lost i… In the one impulse which doth anim… The parent mass: emblem to me of f…

Alas, how easily things go wrong! A sigh too much, a kiss too long, And there follows a mist and weepi… And life is never the same again. Alas, how hardly things go right!

Little Boy Blue lost his way in a… Sing apples and cherries, roses an… He said, 'I would not go back if… It’s all so jolly and funny!’ He sang, ‘This wood is all my own…

Great-hearted child, thy very bein… The Son, Who know’st the hearts of all us p… For who is prodigal but he who has… Far from the true to heart it with…

Babe Jesus lay in Mary’s lap, The sun shone in his hair; And this was how she saw, mayhap, The crown already there. For she sang: ‘Sleep on, my littl…