Yesterday, To-day, and For Ever: Book XII. – The Many Mansions (Edward Henry Bickersteth Poems)
Yet once more, Harp of prophecy, once moreFondly I come soliciting thine aid;By whose celestial minstrelsy inspiredThe saintly Enoch walk'd ...
Yet once more, Harp of prophecy, once moreFondly I come soliciting thine aid;By whose celestial minstrelsy inspiredThe saintly Enoch walk'd ...
I The ragged pilgrim, on the road to nowhere, Waits at the granite milestone. It grows dark. Willows lean by ...
'Tis a poor drizzly morning, dark and sad.The cloud has fallen, and filled with fold on foldThe chimneyed city; and ...
ELLA kept anxious vigil by the bed: How strange it is to watch through creeping hours A face which was ...
An Incident of the French Revolution.THE light lay trembling in a silver bar Along the western borders of the ...
To Rev. Father E. Sourin, S.J., from A. J. Ryan; first, in memory of some happy hours passed in his ...
The droning tram swings westward: shrillthe wire sings overhead, and chillmidwinter draughts rattle the glassthat shows the dusking way I ...
He filled the Nation's eyes and heart, ...
'TIS of the Father Hilary. He strove, but could not pray; so took ...
I am the gift of tongues that flameInspired resolve above:I wither the weeds of paltry aimThat choke the growth of ...
(_Naples-on-the-Gulf_) I Behind me lie the Everglades, The mystic grassy Everglades, Where the moccasin and the ...
The clouded hill attend thou still,And him that went within.A. CloughNot so indeed shall be our creed,— The Man whom ...
Come, dear Heart!The fields are white to harvest: come and seeAs in a glass the timeless mysteryOf love, whereby we ...
I love my mother, the wildwood, I sleep upon her breast;A day or two of childhood, And then I sink ...
Oh, for the time gone by, when thought of Christ Made His Yoke easy and His Burden light; When my ...
LOVE is no bird that nests and flies, No rose that buds and blooms and dies, No star that shines ...
WE went a-begging for a nobler creed, We craved the living bread and wine of thought, That Eucharist which is ...
A buglar boy from barrack (it is over the hill There)-boy bugler, born, he tells me, of Irish Mother to ...
When, by decree of the supreme power, The Poet appears in this annoyed world, His mother, blasphemous out of horror ...
Dear Heart, I think the young impassioned priest When first he takes from out the hidden shrine His God imprisoned ...
THE FLESH "Sweet, thou art pale." "More pale to see, Christ hung upon the cruel tree And bore His Father's ...
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