Like two little doves in gray On the boughs of a greenwood tree, My two Quaker grandmothers sit In my gay genealogy. The Cavalier struts in my heart, The Puritan tugs at my will, But the Quaker faces say “Peace,” And passion and pride are still. Dear faces of infinite calm, Ye have wrought a spell in my blood That maketh the world seem wise And sweet with the sunshine of God.
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Like two little doves in gray On the boughs of a greenwood tree, My two Quaker grandmothers sit In my gay genealogy. The Cavalier struts in my heart, The Puritan tugs at my will, But the Quaker faces say “Peace,” And passion and pride are still. Dear faces of infinite calm, Ye have... |
Easy to drift to the open sea, The tides are eager and swift and strong, And whistling and free are the rushing winds,— But O, to get back is hard and long. Easy as told in Arabian tale, To free from his jar the evil sprite Till he rises like smoke to stupendous size,— But O, nevermore can we... |
O God, I cannot walk the Way,— The thorns, the thirst, the darkness, And bleeding feet and aching heart! I hear the songs and revels of the throng,— They sneer upon my downcast face with scorn,— Yet, O my God, I must and shall walk with Thee! O God, I cannot take the Truth! Far easier honeyed... |
