Good-bye, my song – I, who found… Offer my joy today a useless lute. In the deep night I sang me of th… The sun is on my face and I am mu… Good-bye, my song, in you was all…

God send thee peace, Oh, great un… A world away, I pray that thou ma… Softly as on the Well-Belovèd’s b… Where ever in her wistful dreams t… At dawn my prayer is all for thee,…

She came not into the Presence as… Crowned, white—robed and adoring,… She stood as a straight young sold… Who asks a boon of his captain in… She said: ‘Now have I stayed too…

She put her wedding-gown away As tenderly as one might close, With kissing lips and finger-tips, The petals of a rose Still held for the Belovèd’s sake…

There are in Paradise Souls neither great nor wise, Yet souls who wear no less The crown of faithfulness. My master bade me watch the flock…

It was not then her heart broke’€” That moment when she knew That all her faith held holiest Was utterly untrue. It was not then her heart broke’€”

When the white dawn comes I shall kneel to welcome it; The dread that darkened on my eyes Shall vanish and be gone. I shall look upon it

I lost Young Love so long ago I had forgot him quite, Until a little lass and lad Went by my door to-night. Ah, hand in hand, but not alone,

So quietly I seem to sit apart; I think she does not know or guess… How dear this certain hour to my o… When in our quiet street the shado… She leans and listens at the littl…

The gypsies passed her little gate… She stopped her wheel to see,— A brown-faced pair who walked the… Free as the wind is free; And suddenly her tidy room

My love it should be silent, being… And being very peaceful should be… Still as the utmost depths of ocea… Serenely silent as some mighty hil… Yet is my love so great it needs m…

Below them in the twilight the qui… And warm within its holding, the o… But here within the open fields th… And, hand in hand, across them the… Below them in the village are peac…

Oh, Heart of a Hundred Sorrows, Whose pity is great therefore, The gift that thy children bring t… Is ever a sorrow more. Sure of thy dear compassion,

I like to think this friendship th… As youth’s high gift in our two ha… Still shall we find as bright, unt… What time the fleeting years have… I like to think we two shall watch…

Mothers of men—the words are good… Pride in the very sound of them, s… Why is it their faces haunt me, wi… Ever some dear thing vanished and… Mothers of Men?