Plodding along life’s road in the dust,
Bounded by walls of stone;
Never to have a heart at peace;
Never to see when care will cease;
Just to be still when sorrows fall-
This is the bitterest lesson of all.
Just to give up, and rest
All on a Love secure,
Out of a world that’s hard at the best,
Looking to heaven as sure;
Ever to hope, through cloud and fear,
In darkest night, that the dawn is near;
Just to wait at the Master’s feet-
Surely, now, the bitter is sweet.
Through the noonday silence, down the woods of June,Hark, a little hunter’s voice comes running with a tune.‘Hide and seek!‘When I speak,‘You must answer me:‘Call again,‘Merry men,‘Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!’Now I hear his footsteps, rustling through the grass:Hidden in my leafy nook, shall I let him pass?Just a low, soft whistle,–quick the hunter turns,Leaps upon me…
As thee, my country, had I felt the spellOf Italy at birth, or learned to obeyThe charm of France, or England’s mighty sway.I would not be so much an infidelAs once to dream, or fashion words to tell,What land could hold my love from thee away.For like a law of nature in my bloodI feel…
We crown our cups again,And here’s to you, and here’s to youWith love that ne’er shall wane!And may you keep, at sixty-seven,The joy of earth, the hope of heaven,And fame well-earned, and friendship true,And peace that comforts every pain,And faith that fights the battle through,And all your heart’s unbounded wealth,And all your wit, and all…
The Oxford thrushes singing clear,Amid the February rain,Their sweet, indomitable strain.A wintry vapor lightly spreadsAmong the trees, and round the bedsWhere daffodil and jonquil sleep,Only the snowdrop wakes to weep.It is not springtime yet. Alas,What dark, tempestuous days must pass,Till England’s trial by battle cease,And summer comes again with peace.The lofty halls, the tranquil towers,Where…
On the flowers, and the misty morning grievesOver fallen leaves;Then my olden garden, where the golden soilThrough the toilOf a hundred years is mellow, rich, and deep,Whispers in its sleep.‘Mid the crumpled beds of marigold and phlox,Where the boxBorders with its glossy green the ancient walks,There’s a voice that talksOf the human hopes that bloomed…
A giant ruby glittered in his crown —–Lord of rich lands and many a splendid town.In him the glories of an ancient lineOf sober kings, who ruled by right divine,Were centred; and to him with loyal aweThe people looked for leadership and law.Ten thousand knights, the safeguard of the land,Lay like a single sword within…
