In the midnight of darkness and terror,
When I would grope nearer to God,
With my back to a record of error
And the highway of sin I have trod,
There come to me shapes I would banish—
The shapes of the deeds I have done;
And I pray and I plead till they vanish—
All...
I must
Speak of God in whom
I trust.
In him I have room
To hope.
...
Destruction marks thee! o’er the blood-stain’d heath
Is faintly borne the stifled wail of death;
Millions to fight compell’d, to fight or die
In mangled heaps on War's red altar lie.
The sternly wise, the mildly good, have sped
To the...
Poor little Heart!
Did they forget thee?
Then dinna care! Then dinna care!
Proud little Heart!
Did they forsake thee?
Be debonnaire! Be debonnaire!
Frail little Heart!
I would not break thee —
Could'st credit me? Could'st credit me?
Gay little Heart...
Portraits are to daily faces
As an Evening West,
To a fine, pedantic sunshine —
In a satin Vest!
Power is a familiar growth —
Not foreign — not to be —
Beside us like a bland Abyss
In every company —
Escape it — there is but a chance —
When consciousness and clay
Lean forward for a final glance —
Disprove that and you may —
Praise it — 'tis dead —
It cannot glow —
Warm this inclement Ear
With the encomium it earned
Since it was gathered here —
Invest this alabaster Zest
In the Delights of Dust —
Remitted — since it flitted it
In recusance august.
Prayer is the little implement
Through which Men reach
Where Presence — is denied them.
They fling their Speech
By means of it — in God's Ear —
If then He hear —
This sums the Apparatus
Comprised in Prayer —
Precious to Me — She still shall be —
Though She forget the name I bear —
The fashion of the Gown I wear —
The very Color of My Hair —
So like the Meadows — now —
I dared to show a Tress of Theirs
If haply — She might not despise
A Buttercup's Array —
I know the Whole...