• Judge not; the workings of his brain
      And of his heart thou canst not see;
    What looks to thy dim eyes a stain,
      In God’s pure light may only be
    A scar, brought from some well-won field,
    Where thou wouldst only faint and yield.

    The look, the air, that frets thy sight
      May be a token that below
    The soul has closed in deadly...

  • The Judge is like the Owl —

    I've heard my Father tell —

    And Owls do build in Oaks —

    So here's an Amber Sill —


    That slanted in my Path —

    When going to the Barn —

    And if it serve You for a House —

    Itself is not in vain —


    About the price — 'tis small —

    I only...