Light falls the rain On link and laine, After the burning day; And the bright scene, Blue, gold, and green,

Only to live! There nothing is mo… Only to live! There nothing is mo… Only to live, when flowers are at… And overhead the happy swallows tw… Only to live! There nothing is mo…

Oft had I felt, like pure Endymio… Such love for the sweet moon, that… Believed her able on earth to love… With whatso man she set her love u… But as I wandered once when day w…

An acorn swung On an oak-tree bough; So long it had hung, It would fain fall now To the kindly earth,

She turned the page of wounds and… With trembling fingers. In a brea… The gladness of her life became Naught but a memory and a name. Farewell! Farewell! I might not s…

White-faced Winter Roses, O’er the grave I plant you Where the dead reposes, That a soul may haunt you, And your ghostly whiteness

If one should strive to reach a st… He would not build a ladder high, Seek foot by foot to climb so far, And step by step ascend the sky; But he would seek the wild bird’s…

When Death from some fair face Is stealing life away, All weep, save she, the grace That earth shall lose today. When Time from some fair face

Across the Glory of the glowing s… A veil is drawn of shadowed mists… From lavishness from God’s late g… So, after farewell said, fond memo… Of words and looks, now over, come…

O CHANTRY of the Cherubim, Down-looking on the stream! Beneath thy boughs the day grows d… Through windows comes the gleam; A thousand raptures fill the air,

As strong, as deep, as wide as is… Though by the wind made restless a… By billows fretted and by rocks co… So strong, so deep, so wide my lov… And as the sea; though oft huge wa…

Watchman, watchman, what of the ni… What of the night to tell? The heavens are dark, and never a… But the far-off flicker of Hell. But the steed is in the stall,

What have I given, Bold sailor on the sea? In earth or heaven, That you should die for me? What can I give,

For rain, for rain the parched lan… Reproachful to the cloudless sky. The hot white fields in light are… The rivers in their beds are shrin… For rest, for rest the weary cry