Eight o’clock;

Thy will at least to love, that burns withinAnd thirsteth after Me:So will I render fruitful, blessing still,The germs and small beginnings in thy heart,Because thy will cleaves to the better part.—Alas, I cannot will.Dost not thou will, poor soul? Yet I receiveThe inner unseen longings of the soul,I guide them turning towards Me; I…

Sweet of scent;Sat and dreamed away an hour,Half content, half uncontent.‘Why should rose blossoms be born,Tender blossoms, on a thornThough so sweet?Never a thorn besets the cornScentless in its strength complete.‘Why are roses all so frail,At the mercy of a gale,Of a breath?Yet so sweet and perfect pale,Still so sweet in life and death.’Maiden May…

I dug and dug amongst the sand,And still no green thing came to hand.Melt, O snow! the warm winds blowTo thaw the flowers and melt the snow;But all the winds from every landWill rear no blossom from the sand.

I said: Let me fall or stand,Let me live or die,But this once hear me speak-(O my love, O my love)-Yet a woman’s words are weak;You should speak, not I.You took my heart in your handWith a friendly smile,With a critical eye you scanned,Then set it down,And said: It is still unripe,Better wait a while;Wait…

Lizards will want their parasolsTo shade them from the sun.

Slow and sure may miss his way,Swift and sure may fail.