A soft veil dims the tender skies, And half conceals from pensive eye… The bronzing tokens of the fall; A calmness broods upon the hills, And summer’s parting dream distill…
Lord Jesus, Thou hast known A mother’s love and tender care: And Thou wilt hear, while for my… Mother most dear I make this birt… Protect her life, I pray,
LEGEND Long ago Apollo called to Aristæu… youngest of the shepherds, Saying, “I will make you keeper o… Golden were the hives, and golden…
When down the stair at morning The sunbeams round her float, Sweet rivulets of laughter Are bubbling in her throat; The gladness of her greeting
“Christ of the Andes,” Christ of… Great lover of the hills, the open… And patient lover of impatient men Who blindly strive and sin and str… Thou Living Word, larger than any…
Dear to my heart are the ancestral… Dearer than if they were haunted b… These are the homes that were buil… They are simple enough to be great… I love the old white farmhouses ne…
BIRTHDAY VERSES Dear Aldrich, now November’s mell… Have brought another Festa round… You can’t refuse a loving—cup of p… From friends the fleeting years ha…
'T was far away and long ago, When I was but a dreaming boy, This fairy tale of love and woe Entranced my heart with tearful jo… And while with white Undine I wep…
Home, for my heart still calls me; Home, through the danger zone; Home, whatever befalls me, I will sail again to my own! Wolves of the sea are hiding
With memories old and wishes new We crown our cups again, And here’s to you, and here’s to y… With love that ne’er shall wane! And may you keep, at sixty—seven,
Let me but live my life from year… With forward face and unreluctant… Not hurrying to, nor turning from… Not mourning for the things that d… In the dim past, nor holding back…
In a great land, a new land, a lan… and riches and confusion, Where there were many running to a… shouting, and striving together, In the midst of the hurry and the…
Children of the elemental mother, Born upon some lonely island shore Where the wrinkled ripples run and… Where the crested billows plunge a… Long—winged, tireless roamers and…
The gabled roofs of old Malines Are russet red and gray and green, And o’er them in the sunset hour Looms, dark and huge, St. Rombold… High in that rugged nest concealed…
I read within a poet’s book A word that starred the page: “Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage!” Yes, that is true; and something m…