A beggar through the world am I, From place to place I wander by. Fill up my pilgrim’s scrip for me, For Christ’s sweet sake and chari… A little of thy steadfastness,

The night is dark, the stinging sl… Swept by the bitter gusts of air, Drives whistling down the lonely s… And glazes on the pavement bare. The street-lamps flare and struggl…

Guvener B. is a sensible man; He stays to his home an’ looks art… He draws his furrer ez straight ez… An’ into nobody’s tater-patch poke… But John P.

FOR THE SUNDAY-SCHOO… ‘What means this glory round our f… The Magi mused, ‘more bright than… And voices chanted clear and sweet… ‘To-day the Prince of Peace is bo…

My heart, I cannot still it, Nest that had song-birds in it; And when the last shall go, The dreary days to fill it, Instead of lark or linnet,

I know a falcon swift and peerless As e’er was cradled In the pine; No bird had ever eye so fearless, Or wing so strong as this of mine. The winds not better love to pilot

Weak-Winged is Song, Nor aims at that clear-ethered hei… Whither the brave deed climbs for… We seem to do them wrong, Bringing our robin’s-leaf to deck…

A FRAGMENT Thick-rushing, like an ocean vast Of bisons the far prairie shaking, The notes crowd heavily and fast As surfs, one plunging while the l…

Thy love thou sendest oft to me, And still as oft I thrust it back… Thy messengers I could not see In those who everything did lack, The poor, the outcast and the blac…

Whether the idle prisoner through… Watches the waving of the grass-tu… Which, having colonized its rift i… Accepts God’s dole of good or evi… And from the sky’s just helmet dra…

A presence both by night and day, That made my life seem just begun, Yet scarce a presence, rather say The warning aureole of one. And yet I felt it everywhere;

As one who, from the sunshine and… Enters the solid darkness of a cav… Nor knows what precipice or pit un… May yawn before him with its sudde… And, with hushed breath, doth ofte…

I go to the ridge in the forest I haunted in days gone by, But thou, O Memory, pourest No magical dropp in mine eye, Nor the gleam of the secret restor…

Worn and footsore was the Prophet… When he gained the holy hill; ‘God has left the earth,’ he murmu… ‘Here his presence lingers still. ’God of all the olden prophets,