I may not go to-night to Bethlehe… Nor follow star-directed ways, nor… The paths wherein the shepherds wa… To Christ, and peace, and God’s g… I may not hear the Herald Angel’s…

Soulless is all humanity to me To-night. My keenest longing is t… Alone, alone with God’s grey eart… Pulse of my pulse and consort of m… To-night my soul desires no fellow…

I am sailing to the leeward, Where the current runs to seaward Soft and slow, Where the sleeping river grasses Brush my paddle as it passes

Music, music with throb and swing, Of a plaintive note, and long; ’Tis a note no human throat could… No harp with its dulcet golden str… Nor lute, nor lyre with liquid rin…

And only where the forest fires ha… Scorching relentlessly the cool no… A sweet wild flower lifts its purp… And, like some gentle spirit sorro… It hides the scars with almost hum…

There’s a spirit on the river, the… They are chanting, they are singin… As they steal amid the silence, And the shadows of the shore. You can hear them when the Northe…

There are fires on Lulu Island, a… With the pearl and purple tinting… And the Dream Hills lift their su… With the Capilano canyon at their… There are fires on Lulu Island, a…

So near at hand (our eyes o’erlook… In search of distant things) A dear dream lay—perchance to grow… Had we but felt its wings Astir. The air our very breathing…

Captive! Is there a hell to him l… A taunt more galling than the Hur… He—proud and scornful, he—who laug… He—scion of the deadly Iroquois, He—the bloodthirsty, he—the Mohaw…

Night ‘neath the northern skies, l… Naught but the starlight lies ’twi… Of man no need has he, of God, no… He and his Deity are brothers the… Above his bivouac the firs fling d…

Not of the seething cities with th… Their fetid airs, their reeking st… Not of the buried yesterdays, but… The glory and the gateway of the y… The Northern Lights dance down he…

Measures of oil for others, Oil and red wine, Lips laugh and drink, but never Are the lips mine. Worlds at the feet of others,

(INSCRIBED TO ONE BEYO… Know by the thread of music woven… This fragile web of cadences I sp… That I have only caught these son… Voiced them upon your haunting vio…

A sweet high treble threads its si… Voice of the restless aspen, fine… It trills its pure soprano, light… Like the vibretto of a mandolin.

Love, was it yesternoon, or years… You took in yours my hands, And placed me close beside you on… Of Oriental lands? The truant hour came back at dawn…