Andrew Rykman’s dead and gone; You can see his leaning slate In the graveyard, and thereon Read his name and date. Trust is truer than our fears

Its windows flashing to the sky, Beneath a thousand roofs of brown, Far down the vale, my friend and… Beheld the old and quiet town; The ghostly sails that out at sea

From the Mahabharata. Before the Ender comes, whose cha… Is swift or slow Disease, lay up… Thy harvests of well-doing, wealth… Nor thieves can take away. When a…

“All hail!” the bells of Christma… “All hail!” the monks at Christma… The merry monks who kept with chee… The gladdest day of all their year… But still apart, unmoved thereat,

1775. No Berserk thirst of blood had th… No battle-joy was theirs, who set Against the alien bayonet Their homespun breasts in that old…

‘O for a knight like Bayard, Without reproach or fear; My light glove on his casque of st… My love-knot on his spear! ’O for the white plume floating

The fourteen centuries fall away Between us and the Afric saint, And at his side we urge, to-day, The immemorial quest and old compl… No outward sign to us is given,—

A cloud, like that the old-time H… On Carmel prophesying rain, began To lift itself o’er wooded Cardig… Growing and blackening. Suddenly,… Of chill wind menaced; then a stro…

‘The cross, if rightly borne, shal… No burden, but support to thee;’ So, moved of old time for our sake… The holy monk of Kempen spake. Thou brave and true one! upon whom

Low in the east, against a white,… The black-lined silhouette of the… And on a wintry waste Of frosted streams and hillsides b… Through thin cloud-films, a pallid…

Above, below, in sky and sod, In leaf and spar, in star and man, Well might the wise Athenian scan The geometric signs of God, The measured order of His plan.

NAUHAUGHT, the Indian deacon,… Dwelt, poor but blameless, where h… Stretches its shrunk arm out to al… And the relentless smiting of the… Awoke one morning from a pleasant…

Around Sebago’s lonely lake There lingers not a breeze to brea… The mirror which its waters make. The solemn pines along its shore, The firs which hang its gray rocks…

A bending staff I would not break… A feeble faith I would not shake, Nor even rashly pluck away The error which some truth may sta… Whose loss might leave the soul wi…

In the fair land o’erwatched by I… Across the charmed bay Whose blue waves keep with Capri’… Perpetual holiday, A king lies dead, his wafer duly e…