#EnglishWriters
Every day is Judgment Day, Count on no to-morrow. He who will not, when he may, Act to-day, to-day, to-day, Doth but borrow
centered(A Warning) “Am I my brother’s keeper?” Yes, of a truth! Thine asking is thine answer. That self-condemning cry of Cain
A wonderful Way is The King’s Hi… It runs through the Nightlands up… From the wonderful WAS, by the w… To the still more wonderful IS T… Runs The King’s High Way.
Hello! Hello! Are you there? Are you there? Ah! That you? Well,— This is just to tell you That there’s trouble in the air...
Better in bitterest agony to lie, Before Thy throne, Than through much increase to be l… And stand alone. Better by one sweet soul, constant…
Free men of God, the New Day bre… In golden gleams across the sky; The darkness of the night is past, This is the Day of Victory. For this our fathers strove,
(THE PLEA OF THE MUNI… “Rattle and clatter and clank and… And it’s long and long the day is. From earliest morn to late at nigh… And all night long, the selfsame s…
Bright stars of Faith and Hope, h… Shall shine for us through all the… For all her life was Love, and fe… Touch not the love that never dies… And Death itself, to her, was but
Winter hung about the ways, Very loth to go. Little Spring could not get past… Try she never so. This side,—that side, everywhere,
Each sin has its door of entrance. Keep—that—door—closed! Bolt it tight! Just outside, the wild beast crouc… In the night.
All through the blood-red Autumn, When the harvest came to the full; When the days were sweet with suns… And the nights were wonderful,— The Reaper reaped without ceasing…
Is your place a small place? Tend it with care!— He set you there. Is your place a large place? Guard it with care!—
The spikenard was not wasted;— All down the tale of years, The fragrance of that broken alaba… Still clings to Mary’s memory, As clung its perfume sweet unto he…
“Shall it be Peace? A voice within me cried and would… ‘One man could do it if he would b… (From “Policeman X” in “Bees in… He did not dare!
I saw my fellows In Poverty Street,— Bitter and black with life’s defea… Ill-fed, ill-housed, of ills compl… And I said to myself,—