When day is done I steal away To fold my hands in rest, And of my hours this moment grey I love the best; So quietly I sit alone

For five and twenty years I’ve ru… A famous train; But now my spell of speed is done, No more I’ll strain My sight along the treadless track…

Three Holies sat in sacred place And quaffed celestial wine, As they discussed the human race With dignity divine. Said they: 'Although in doctrine…

(The Dark Side) My mind goes back to Fumin Wood,… Eight days of hunger, thirst and c… Waist—deep in mud and mad with woe… We fought like fiends and waited f…

A child saw in the morning skies The dissipated—looking moon, And opened wide her big blue eyes, And cried: “Look, look, my lost b… And clapped her rosy hands with gl…

My boy’s come back; he’s here at l… He came home on a special train. My longing and my ache are past, My only son is back again. He’s home with music, flags and fl…

Oh I am neither rich nor poor, No worker I dispoil; Yet I am glad to be secure From servitude and toil. For with my lifelong savings I

While for me gapes the greedy grav… It don’t make sense That I should have a crazy crave To paint our fence. Yet that is what I aim to do,

Because I was a woman lone And had of friends so few, I made two little ones my own, Whose parents no one knew; Unwanted foundlings of the night,

Full fifty merry maids I heard One summer morn a—singing; And each was like a joyous bird With spring—clear not a—ringing. It was an old—time soldier song

I was a seed that fell In silver dew; And nobody could tell, For no one knew; No one could tell my fate,

The God of Scribes looked down an… The bitter band of seven, Who had outraged his holy law And lost their hope of Heaven: Came Villon, petty thief and pimp…

For failure I was well equipped And should have come to grief, By atavism grimly gripped, A fool beyond belief. But lo! the Lord was good to me,

He wrote a letter in his mind To answer one a maid had sent; He sought the fitting word to find… As on by hill and rill he went. By bluebell wood and hawthorn lane…

So often in the mid of night I wake me in my bed With utter panic of affright To find my feet are dead; And pace the floor to easy my pain