In the flame of the flickering fir… The sins of my soul are few And the thoughts in my head are th… With a solitary view. But the eye of eternal consciousne…

My heart goes out to my Creator i… Who gave me Death, as end and rem… All living creatures come to quiet… For him to eat up their activity And give them nothing, which is wh…

In my dreams I am always saying g… Whither and why I know not nor do… And the parting is sweet and the p… And sweetest of all is the night a… In my dreams they are always wavin…

There is a face I know too well, A face I dread to see, So vain it is, so eloquent Of all futility. It is a human face that hides

Mother, among the dustbins and the… I feel the measure of my humanity,… As of the presence of God, I am s… In the dustbins, in the manure, in… Is the presence of God, in a sure…

Christ died for God and me Upon the crucifixion tree For God a spoken Word For me a Sword For God a hymn of praise

Why is the word pretty so underrat… In November the leaf is pretty wh… The stream grows deep in the woods… And in the pretty pool the pike st… He stalks his prey, and this is pr…

The pleasures of friendship are ex… How pleasant to go to a friend on… I go to my friend, we walk on the… And the hours and moments like min…

I do not ask for mercy for underst… And in these heavy days I do not… I do not ask that suffering shall… I do not pray to God to let me di… To give an ear attentive to my cry

After reading Dr Rieu’€™s transla… Who is this that comes in splendou… This is he we had not thought of,… Airy, in an airy manner in an airy… Others take him by the hand, lead…

Tender only to one Tender and true The petals swing To my fingering Is it you, or you, or you?

There is far too much of the subur… Spiritually not geographically spe… Menacing the greatness of our belo… Propagating their kind in an eight… Now I have a plan which I will en…

Dearest Evelyn, I often think of… Out with the guns in the jungle st… Yesterday I hittapotamus I put the measurements down for yo… It’s not a good thing to drink out…

Tenuous and Precarious Were my guardians, Precarious and Tenuous, Two Romans. My father was Hazardous,

Our Bog is dood, our Bog is dood, They lisped in accents mild, But when I asked them to explain They grew a little wild. How do you know your Bog is dood