RIGHT in the track where Sherma… Ploughed his red furrow, Out of the narrow cabin, Up from the cellar’s burrow, Gathered the little black people,

Between the gates of birth and dea… An old and saintly pilgrim passed, With look of one who witnesseth The long-sought goal at last. O thou whose reverent feet have fo…

O lonely bay of Trinity, O dreary shores, give ear! Lean down unto the white-lipped se… The voice of God to hear! From world to world His couriers…

Gallery of sacred pictures manifol… A minster rich in holy effigies, And bearing on entablature and fri… The hieroglyphic oracles of old. Along its transept aureoled martyr…

Poor and inadequate the shadow-pla… Of gain and loss, of waking and of… Against life’s solemn background n… At this late hour. Yet, not untha… I call to mind the fountains by th…

A NOTELESS stream, the Birchb… Beneath its leaning trees; That low, soft ripple is its own, That dull roar is the sea’s. Of human signs it sees alone

MY ear is full of summer sounds, Of summer sights my languid eye; Beyond the dusty village bounds I loiter in my daily rounds, And in the noon-time shadows lie.

THANK God for rest, where none… And none can make afraid; For Peace that sits as Plenty’s g… Beneath the homestead shade! Bring pike and gun, the sword’s re…

INSCRIBED TO ROBERT C… Fold her, O Father, in Thine arm… And let her henceforth be A messenger of love between Our human hearts and Thee.

IT chanced that while the pious t… Fought in the crusade Pio Nono pr… What time the holy Bourbons staye… (The Hur and Aaron meet for such… Stretched forth from Naples towar…

I need not ask thee, for my sake, To read a book which well may make Its way by native force of wit Without my manual sign to it. Its piquant writer needs from me

THE SUMMER warmth has left the… The summer songs have died away; And, withered, in the footpaths li… The fallen leaves, but yesterday With ruby and with topaz gay.

I HAVE been thinking of the vict… In Naples, dying for the lack of… And sunshine, in their close, damp… Where hope is not, and innocence i… Appeals against the torture and th…

‘Encore un hymne, O ma lyre Un hymn pour le Seigneur, Un hymne dans mon delire, Un hymne dans mon bonheur.’ One hymn more, O my lyre!

Tritemius of Herbipolis, one day, While kneeling at the altar’s foot… Alone with God, as was his pious… Heard from without a miserable voi… A sound which seemed of all sad th…