Where the ragged, snow-capped saw tooth
    Cuts the azure of the sky
And watches o'er the lonely land
    As ages wander by;
Where the sentinel pines in grandeur
    Murmur to the glacier stream
As it, ice-gorged, gluts the canyon,
    Never brightened by the gleam
Of sun at brightest noon day,
    Nor moon of Arctic night,
And whose only link with Heaven
    Is the fitful Northern Light.
Where the Whistler shrills in triumph
    And the Big Horn dreams in peace,
Where the Brown Bear skulks to cover
    Up where silence holds the lease;
Where the land is as God left it
    Nor has known the tread of man,
There's a treasure ledge a-waiting--
    Go and find it if you can.

If your heart be steeled to triumph
    Nor beats less at ...

I do not undertake to say
    That literal answers come from Heaven,
But I know this - that when I pray
    A comfort, a support is given
That helps me rise o'er earthly things
As larks soar up on airy wings.

In vain the wise philosopher
    Points out to me my fabric's flaws,
In vain the scientists aver
    That "all things are controlled by laws."
My life has taught me day by day
That it availeth much to pray.

I do not stop to reason out
    The why and how.    I do not care,
Since I know this, that when I doubt,
    Life seems a blackness of despair,
The world a tomb; and when I trust,
Sweet blossoms spring up in the dust.

Since I know in the darkest hour,
    If I lift up my soul in prayer,
Some sympathetic, loving Pow...

Ye hasten to the grave! What seek ye there,
Ye restless thoughts and busy purposes
Of the idle brain, which the world's livery wear?
O thou quick heart, which pantest to possess
All that pale Expectation feigneth fair!
Thou vainly curious mind which wouldest guess
Whence thou didst come, and whither thou must go,
And all that never yet was known would know -
Oh, whither hasten ye, that thus ye press,
With such swift feet life's green and pleasant path,
Seeking, alike from happiness and woe,
A refuge in the cavern of gray death?
O heart, and mind, and thoughts! what thing do you
Hope to inherit in the grave below?

[Greek (transliterated):
                Kai pagas fileoimi ton enguthen aechon achthein,
                A terpei psopheoisa ton agrikon, thchi tarassei.

MOSCHOS.]



Faint gleams the evening radiance thro' the sky,
    The sober twilight dimly darkens round;
In short quick circles the shrill bat flits by,
    And the slow vapour curls along the ground.

Now the pleas'd eye from yon lone cottage sees
    On the green mead the smoke long-shadowing play;
    The Red-breast on the blossom'd spray
    Warbles wild her latest lay,
And sleeps along the dale the silent breeze.
Calm CONTEMPLATION,'tis thy favorite hour!
Come fill my bosom, tranquillizing Power.

Meek Power! I view thee on the calmy shore
    When Ocean stills his waves ...

If I could keep my innermost Me
Fearless, aloof and free
Of the least breath of love or hate,
And not disconsolate
At the sick load of sorrow laid on men;
If I could keep a sanctuary there
Free even of prayer,
If I could do this, then,
With quiet candor as I grew more wise
I could look even at God with grave forgiving eyes.

The night is come, but not too soon;
    And sinking silently,
All silently, the little moon
    Drops down behind the sky.

There is no light in earth or heaven,
    But the cold light of stars;
And the first watch of night is given
    To the red planet Mars.

Is it the tender star of love?
    The star of love and dreams?
Oh, no! from that blue tent above,
    A hero's armour gleams.

And earnest thoughts within me rise,
    When I behold afar,
Suspended in the evening skies
    The shield of that red star.

O star of strength!    I see thee stand
    And smile upon my pain;
Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand,
    And I am strong again.

Within my breast there is no light,
    But the cold light of stars;

Whose Timidity frequently agitated her, when pressed to gratify her Friends by her Musical Talents.


'Tis said (and I believe it too)
That genuine merit seeks the shade;
Blushing to think what is her due,
As of her own sweet pow'rs afraid: -

Thus, lovely maid! on fluttering wings,
Thy pow'rs a thousand fears pursue,
Which, like thy own harmonious strings,
When press'd enchant, and tremble too!

The pity, which we give, you owe,
For mutual fears on both attend;
While anxious thus you joy bestow,
We fear too soon that joy will end!

IF to a girl who loves us truly
Her mother gives instruction duly
In virtue, duty, and what not,
And if she hearkens ne'er a jot,
But with fresh-strengthen'd longing flies

To meet our kiss that seems to burn,

Caprice has just as much concerned
As love in her bold enterprise.

But if her mother can succeed
In gaining for her maxims heed,
And softening the girl's heart too,
So that she coyly shuns our view,
The heart of youth she knows but ill;

For when a maiden is thus stern,

Virtue in truth has less concern
In this, than an inconstant will.

Onward to her destination,
    O'er the stream the Hannah sped,
When a cry of consternation
    Smote and chilled our hearts with dread.

Wildly leaping, madly sweeping,
    All relentless in their sway,
Like a band of cruel demons
    Flames were closing 'round our way

Oh! the horror of those moments;
    Flames above and waves below -
Oh! the agony of ages
    Crowded in one hour of woe.

Fainter grew our hearts with anguish
    In that hour with peril rife,
When we saw the pilot flying,
    Terror-stricken, for his life.

Then a man uprose before us -
    We had once despised his race -
But we saw a lofty purpose
    Lighting up his darkened face.


While the flames were madly roaring,
    With a coura...

Angel of Peace, the hounds of war,
Unleashed, are all abroad,
And war's foul trade again is made
    Man's leading aim in life.
Blood dyes the billow and the sod;
    The very winds are rife
With tales of slaughter.    Angel, pray,
What can we do or think or say
In times like these?
    'Child, think of God!'

'Before this little speck in space
Called Earth with light was shod,
Great chains and tiers of splendid spheres
    Were fashioned by His hand.
Be thine the part to love and laud,
    Nor seek to understand.
Go lift thine eyes from death-charged guns
To one who made a billion suns;
And trust and wait.
    Child, dwell on God!'

In the face of the sun are great thunderbolts hurled,
    And the storm-clouds have shut out its light;
But a Rainbow of Promise now shines on the world,
    And the universe thrills at the sight.

'Tis the flag of our Union, the red, white, and blue,
    Our Star-spangled Banner - our pride;
Fair symbol of all that is noble and true,
    Flung out over continents wide.

Flung out in its glory o'er land and o'er sea,
    With a message from God in each star;
And a glorious promise of peace yet to be
    In the fluttering folds of each bar.

A Rainbow of Promise, bright emblem of hope,
    Fair flag of each cause that is just;
No longer in doubt or in darkness we grope -
    In the Star-spangled Banner we trust.

How easily He turns the tides!
Just now the yellow beach was dry,
Just now the gaunt rocks all were bare,
The sun beat hot, and thirstily
Each sea-weed waved its long brown hair,
And bent and languished as in pain;
Then, in a flashing moment's space,
The white foam-feet which spurned the sand
Paused in their joyous outward race,
Wheeled, wavered, turned them to the land,
And, a swift legionary band,
Poured oil the waiting shores again.

How easily He turns the tides!
The fulness of my yesterday
Has vanished like a rapid dream,
And pitiless and far away
The cool, refreshing waters gleam:
Grim rocks of dread and doubt and pain

Rear their dark fronts where once was sea;
But I can smile and wait for Him
Who turns the tides so easily,...

O Dearer far than light and life are dear,
Full oft our human foresight I deplore;
Trembling, through my unworthiness, with fear
That friends, by death disjoined, may meet no more!
Misgivings, hard to vanquish or control,
Mix with the day, and cross the hour of rest;
While all the future, for thy purer soul,
With "sober certainties" of love is blest.

That sigh of thine, not meant for human ear,
Tells that these words thy humbleness offend;
Yet bear me up, else faltering in the rear
Of a steep march: support me to the end.

Peace settles where the intellect is meek,
And Love is dutiful in thought and deed;
Through Thee communion with that Love I seek:
The faith Heaven strengthens where 'he' moulds the Creed.

When she had left us but a little while,
I still could hear the ringing of her voice,
Still see athwart the dusk her shy half-smile
And that sweet trust wherein I most rejoice.

Then in her self-same tones I heard, "Go thou,
Set to that work appointed thee to do,
Remembering I am with thee here and now,
Watchful as ever. See, my eyes shine true!"

I lookt, and saw the concourse of clear stars,
Steadfast, of limpid candour, and could discover
Her soul look on me thro' the prison-bars
Which slunk like sin from such an honest Lover:

And thro' the vigil-pauses of that night
She beam'd on me; and my soul felt her light.

Thank God for such a Hero! - Fearless hold
    His diamond character beneath the sun,
    And brighter scintillations, one by one,
Come flashing from it. Never knight of old
Wore on serener brow, so calm, yet bold,
    Diviner courage: never martyr knew
    Trust more sublime, - nor patriot, zeal more true, -
Nor saint, self-abnegation of a mould
    Touched with profounder beauty. All the rare,
Clear, starry points of light, that gave his soul
    Such lambent lustre, owned but one sole aim, -
    Not for himself, nor yet his country's fame,
These glories shone: he kept the clustered whole
    A jewel for the crown that Christ shall wear!

As I pondered very weary o'er a volume long and dreary,
For the plot was void of interest; 'twas the Postal Guide, in fact,
There I learnt the true location, distance, size and population
Of each township, town, and village in the radius of the Act.

And I learnt that Puckawidgee stands beside the Murrumbidgee,
And the Booleroi and Bumble get their letters twice a year,
Also that the post inspector, when he visited Collector,
Closed the office up instanter, and re-opened Dungalear.

But my languid mood forsook me, when I found a name that took me;
Quite by chance I came across it, "Come-by-Chance" was what I read;
No location was assigned it, not a thing to help one find it,
Just an N which stood for northward, and the rest was all unsaid.

I shall leave my home, a...

For oh, when the war will be over
We'll go and we'll look for our dead;
We'll go when the bee's on the clover,
And the plume of the poppy is red:
We'll go when the year's at its gayest,
When meadows are laughing with flow'rs;
And there where the crosses are greyest,
We'll seek for the cross that is ours.

For they cry to us: 'Friends, we are lonely,
A-weary the night and the day;
But come in the blossom-time only,
Come when our graves will be gay:
When daffodils all are a-blowing,
And larks are a-thrilling the skies,
Oh, come with the hearts of you glowing,
And the joy of the Spring in your eyes.

'But never, oh, never come sighing,
For ours was the Splendid Release;
And oh, but 'twas joy in the dying
To know we were winning you Peace!...

Faith is a thing that's four-square; let it fall
This way or that, it not declines at all.