The day is closing dark and cold, With roaring blast and sleety show… And through the dusk the lilacs we… The bloom of snow, instead of flow… I turn me from the gloom without,

Of A Virginia Slave Mother T… Gone, gone,—sold and gone To the rice-swamp dank and lone. Where the slave-whip ceaseless swi… Where the noisome insect stings

SECRETARY OF THE BOS… Gone before us, O our brother, To the spirit-land! Vainly look we for another In thy place to stand.

Men said at vespers: ‘All is well… In one wild night the city fell; Fell shrines of prayer and marts o… Before the fiery hurricane. On threescore spires had sunset sh…

We live by Faith; but Faith is no… Of text and legend. Reason’s voic… Nature’s and Duty’s, never are at… What asks our Father of His child… Justice and mercy and humility,

A PIOUS magistrate! sound his p… The wondering churches. Who shall… That the long-wished millennium dr… Sin in high places has become devo… Tithes mint, goes painful-faced, a…

The Khan came from Bokhara town To Hamza, santon of renown. ‘My head is sick, my hands are wea… Thy help, O holy man, I seek.’ In silence marking for a space

Along the aisle where prayer was m… A woman, all in black arrayed, Close-veiled, between the kneeling… With gliding motion of a ghost, Passed to the desk, and laid there…

THE South-land boasts its teemin… The prairied West its heavy grain… And sunset’s radiant gates unfold On rising marts and sands of gold! Rough, bleak, and hard, our little…

Oh, thicker, deeper, darker growin… The solemn vista to the tomb Must know henceforth another shado… And give another cypress room. In love surpassing that of brother…

‘The cross, if rightly borne, shal… No burden, but support to thee;’ So, moved of old time for our sake… The holy monk of Kempen spake. Thou brave and true one! upon whom

Tritemius of Herbipolis, one day, While kneeling at the altar’s foot… Alone with God, as was his pious… Heard from without a miserable voi… A sound which seemed of all sad th…

TO E. W. I KNOW not, Time and Space so i… Whether, still waiting with a trus… Thou bearest up thy fourscore year… Or, called at last, art now Heave…

From Institutes of Manu. The soul itself its awful witness… Say not in evil doing, ‘No one se… And so offend the conscious One w… Whose ear can hear the silences of…

Of A Virginia Slave Mother To H… Gone, gone, - sold and gone To the rice-swamp dank and lone. Where the slave-whip ceaseless swi… Where the noisome insect stings