The Kings come riding back from t… The purple Kings and all their mo… They fill the street with clamorou… The Kings have broken down the Sa… Singing a great song of the easter…
The winter moon has such a quiet c… That all the winter nights are dum… She drives the gradual dark with d… And dreams go wandering from her d… Because the nights are silent, do…
And is it True? It is not True. And if it were it wouldn’t do, For people such as me and you Who pretty nearly all day long Are doing something rather wrong.
When Peter Wanderwide was young He wandered everywhere he would: All that he approved was sung, And most of what he saw was good. When Peter Wanderwide was thrown
Of three in One and One in three My narrow mind would doubting be Till Beauty, Grace and Kindness… And all at once were Juliet.
Stand thou forever among human Ho… House of the Resurrection, House… House of the rooted hearts and lon… Stand, and be famous over all the…
I’m tired of Love: I’m still more… But Money gives me pleasure all t…
Do you remember an Inn, Miranda? Do you remember an Inn? And the tedding and the spreading Of the straw for a bedding,
Towards the evening of her splendi… Those who are little children now… (Finding this verse),'Who wrote i… And Juliet answer gently, ‘I forg…
Of Courtesy, it is much less Than Courage of Heart or Holines… Yet in my Walks it seems to me That the Grace of God is in Cour… On Monks I did in Storrington fa…
Wherever the Catholic sun doth sh… There’s always laughter and good r… At least I’ve always found it so. Benedicamus Domino!
The mirror held your fair, my Fai… A fickle moment’s space. You looked into mine eyes, and the… For ever fixed your face. Keep rather to your looking-glass
Heretics all, whoever you may be, In Tarbes or Nimes, or over the s… You never shall have good words fr… Caritas non conturbat me. But Catholic men that live upon w…
The Vulture eats between his meal… And that’s the reason why He very, very, rarely feels As well as you and I. His eye is dull, his head is bald,
Most Holy Night, that still dost… The keys of all the doors of sleep… To me when my tired eyelids close Give thou repose. And let the far lament of them
