A child was born in sin and shame, Wronged by his very birth, Without a home, without a name, One over in the earth. No wifely triumph he inspired,

I have long enough been working do… Working spade and pick, boring-chi… I long for wider spaces, airy, cle… Successless labour never the love… More profit surely lies in a holy,…

Oh, melancholy fragment of the nig… Drawing thy lazy web against the s… Thou shouldst have waited till the… With kindred glooms to build thy f… Sublime amid the ruins of the ligh…

One is a slow and melancholy maid; I know riot if she cometh from the… Or from the sleepy gulfs, but she… Often before me in the twilight sh… Holding a bunch of poppies and a b…

She sitteth at the Master’s feet In motionless employ; Her ears, her heart, her soul comp… Drinks in the tide of joy. Ah! who but she the glory knows

Still am I haunting Thy door with my prayers; Still they are panting Up thy steep stairs! Wouldst thou not rather

Now in the dark of February rains… Poor lovers of the sunshine, sprin… The earthy fields are full of hidd… And March’s violets bud along the… Therefore with joy believe in what…

The croak of a raven hoar! A dog’s howl, kennel-tied! Loud shuts the carriage-door: The two are away on their ghastly… To Death’s salt shore!

When God’s own child came down to… High heaven was very glad; The angels sang for holy mirth; Not God himself was sad! Shall we, when ours goes homeward,…

Hark, the rain is on my roof! Every murmur, through the dark, Stings me with a dull reproof Like a half-extinguished spark. Me! ah me! how came I here,

I would I were an angel strong, An angel of the sun, hasting along… I would I were just come awake, A child outbursting from night’s d… Or lark whose inward, upward fate

Father, I cry to thee for bread With hungred longing, eager prayer… Thou hear’st, and givest me instea… More hunger and a half-despair. 0 Lord, how long? My days decline…

There was an auld fisher, he sat b… An’ luikit oot ower the sea; The bairnies war playin, he smil’t… But the tear stude in his e’e. An’ it’s-oh to win awa, awa!

To give a thing and take again Is counted meanness among men; To take away what once is given Cannot then be the way of heaven! But human hearts are crumbly stuff…

Hears’t thou the dash of water, lo… With its perpetual tidings upward… Struggling against the wind? Oh,… For not in vain from its portentou… Thy heart, wild stream, hath yearn…