Bouquet said: “My floral ring The homage of a heart encloses, Whose thoughts to you go worshippi… In perfume from my blushing roses.… Bracelet said: “My rubies red,

The Sun burns fiercely down the s… The sea is full of flashing eyes; The waves glide shoreward serpentw… And fawn with foamy tongues on sta… Gray rocks, each sharp-toothed as…

When the sap runs up the tree, And the vine runs o’er the wall, When the blossom draws the bee, From the forest comes a call, Wild, and clear, and sweet, and st…

IT MAY have been a fragment of t… Truth dreams, at times, disclose; It may have been to Fond Illusion… But thus the story goes: A fierce sun glared upon a gaunt l…

It fell upon a summer night The village folk were soundly slee… Unconscious of the glamour white In which the moon all things was s… One window only showed a light;

Through the noiseless doors of De… Three passed out, as with one brea… Two had faces stern as Fate, Stamped with unrelenting hate. One upon her lips of guile

Not only on cross and gibbet, By sword, and fire, and flood, Have perished the world’s sad mart… Whose names are writ in blood. A woman lay in a hovel,

The Woman at the Washtub, She works till fall of night; With soap and suds and soda Her hands are wrinkled white. Her diamonds are the sparkles

’TIS said that the Passion Flowe… With its figures of spear and swor… And hammer and nails, is a symbol Of the Woe of our Blessed Lord. So still in the Heart of Beauty

The Muse who comes each morning In rozy gauze is clad; Her head is crowned with flowers, Her eyes are clear and glad. Upon her virgin bosom

Tjere are three mighty Voices th… Cry out to God to speed His Judg… The Voice of Devils, weary long a… Of dragging souls to Everlasting… The Voice of Saints who hear, whi…

They brought my fair love out upon… Out from the dwelling that her smi… Out from the life that her life ma… Into the glitter of the garish str… And no man wept, save I, for that…

The awful seers of old who wrote,… Like drops of blood, great thought… Of ages burn, as eyes of lions lig… Deep jungle-dusks; who smote with… The soul of man on its most secret…

Choose who will the wiser part— I have held her heart to heart; And have felt her heart-strings st… And her soul’s still singing heard For one golden-haloed hour

There is a town in Ireland, A little town I know; Its girls have tender Irish eyes Beneath their brows of snow; And in the field around it