Eliza Scudder

  • The Day is done; the weary day of thought and toil is past,
    Soft falls the twilight cool and gray on the tired earth at last:
    By wisest teachers wearied, by gentlest friends oppressed,
    In thee alone, the soul, outworn, refreshment finds, and rest.

    Bend, Gracious...

  • Thou Grace Divine, encircling all,
      A soundless, shoreless sea!
    Wherein at last our souls must fall,
      O Love of God most free!

    When over dizzy heights we go,
      One soft hand blinds our eyes,
    The other leads us, safe and slow,
      O Love...

  • As doth his heart who travels far from home
    Leap up whenever he by chance doth see
    One from his mother-country lately come,
    Friend from my home—thus do I welcome thee.
    Thou art so late arrived that I the tale
    Of thy high lineage on thy brow can trace,...