I. SPEAK NOW FOR PEACE<… Lady of Light, and our best woman… Stand now for peace, (though anger… Though naught but smoke and flame… Lady of Light, speak, though you…

Sometimes I dip my pen and find t… The salamanders flying forth I ca… It’s Etna, or Vesuvius, if those… And then ’tis but itself again, an… And so my blood grows cold. I say…

Ah, in the night, all music haunts… Is it for naught high Heaven crac… And the tremendous Amaranth desce… Sweet with the glory of ten thousa… Does it not mean my God would hav…

“The sun says his prayers,” said t… Or else he would wither and die. “The sun says his prayers,” said t… “For strength to climb up through… He leans on invisible angels,

‘There’s machinery in the butterfl… There’s a mainspring to the bee; There’s hydraulics to a daisy, And contraptions to a tree. ‘If we could see the birdie

No man should stand before the moo… To make sweet song thereon, With dandified importance, His sense of humor gone. Nay, let us don the motley cap,

Incense and Splendor haunt me as… Though my good works have been, al… Though I do naught, High Heaven… And future ages pass in tall revie… I see the years to come as armies…

[During an anti-saloon campaign… In the midst of the battle I turn… (For the thunders could flourish w… And hid by a rose-hung wall, Forgetting the murder about me;

Sleep softly... eagle forgotten...… Time has its way with you there, a… “We have buried him now,” thought… They made a brave show of their mo… They had snarled at you, barked at…

[To be sung to the tune of The… [Bass drum beaten loudly.] Booth led boldly with his big bass… (Are you washed in the blood of th… The Saints smiled gravely and the…

The moon’s a brass-hooped water-ke… A wondrous water-feast. If I could climb the ridge and dr… And give drink to my beast; If I could drain that keg, the fl…

We are happy all the time Even when we fight: Sweet briars of the stairways, Gay fairies of the grime; We, who are playing to-night.…

(To Eudora, after I had had ce… When Dragon-fly would fix his win… When Snail would patch his house, When moths have marred the overcoa… Of tender Mister Mouse,

(What Grandpa told the Childre… The moon? It is a griffin’s egg, Hatching to-morrow night. And how the little boys will watch With shouting and delight

The old man had his box and wheel For grinding knives and shears. No doubt his bell in village stree… Was joy to children’s ears. And I bethought me of my youth