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Or sing thy love-lorn note —
In deeper solitude, where nymph or saint
Has wooed some mystic spot,
Divinely desolate the shrine to paint?
Yet wherefore ask thy doom?
Blessed compared with me thou art —
Unto thy greenwood home
Bearing no bitter memory at heart;
Wearing no earthly chain,
Thou canst in azure bright soar far above;
Nor pinest thou in vain
O'er joys departed, unforgotten love.
O take me to thy bower!
Beguile the lagging hours of weariness
With strain which hath strange power
To make me love thee as I love life less!
From mortal consciousness
Which binds to earth – infirmity of woe!
Or pining tenderness —
Whose streams will never dry or cease to flow;
An aching, voiceless void,
Hushed in the heart whereunto none reply,
And in the cringing crowd
Companionless! Bird, bear me through the sky!
Written more than sixty years ago for the New Hampshire Patriot.
COME THOU
Come, in the minstrel's lay;
When two hearts meet,
And true hearts greet,
And all is morn and May.
Come Thou! and now, anew,
To thought and deed
Give sober speed,
Thy will to know, and do.
Stay! till the storms are o'er —
The cold blasts done,
The reign of heaven begun,
And Love, the evermore.
Be patient, waiting heart:
Light, Love divine
Is here, and thine;
You therefore cannot part.
"The seasons come and go:
Love, like the sea,
Rolls on with thee, —
But knows no ebb and flow.
"Faith, hope, and tears, triune,
Above the sod
Find peace in God,
And one eternal noon."
Oh, Thou hast heard my prayer;
And I am blest!
This is Thy high behest:
Thou, here and everywhere.
WISH AND ITEM
To the editor of the Item, Lynn, Mass.
I hope the heart that's hungry
For things above the floor,
Will find within its portals
An item rich in store;
That melancholy mortals
Will count their mercies o'er,
And learn that Truth and wisdom
Have many items more;
That when a wrong is done us,
It stirs no thought of strife;
And Love becomes the substance,
As item, of our life;
That every ragged urchin,
With bare feet soiled or sore,
Share God's most tender mercies, —
Find items at our door.
Then if we've done to others
Some good ne'er told before,
When angels shall repeat it,
'Twill be an item more.
DEDICATION OF A TEMPERANCE HALL
In deeper solitude, where nymph or saint
Has wooed some mystic spot,
Divinely desolate the shrine to paint?
Yet wherefore ask thy doom?
Blessed compared with me thou art —
Unto thy greenwood home
Bearing no bitter memory at heart;
Wearing no earthly chain,
Thou canst in azure bright soar far above;
Nor pinest thou in vain
O'er joys departed, unforgotten love.
O take me to thy bower!
Beguile the lagging hours of weariness
With strain which hath strange power
To make me love thee as I love life less!
From mortal consciousness
Which binds to earth – infirmity of woe!
Or pining tenderness —
Whose streams will never dry or cease to flow;
An aching, voiceless void,
Hushed in the heart whereunto none reply,
And in the cringing crowd
Companionless! Bird, bear me through the sky!
Written more than sixty years ago for the New Hampshire Patriot.
COME THOU
Come, in the minstrel's lay;
When two hearts meet,
And true hearts greet,
And all is morn and May.
Come Thou! and now, anew,
To thought and deed
Give sober speed,
Thy will to know, and do.
Stay! till the storms are o'er —
The cold blasts done,
The reign of heaven begun,
And Love, the evermore.
Be patient, waiting heart:
Light, Love divine
Is here, and thine;
You therefore cannot part.
"The seasons come and go:
Love, like the sea,
Rolls on with thee, —
But knows no ebb and flow.
"Faith, hope, and tears, triune,
Above the sod
Find peace in God,
And one eternal noon."
Oh, Thou hast heard my prayer;
And I am blest!
This is Thy high behest:
Thou, here and everywhere.
WISH AND ITEM
To the editor of the Item, Lynn, Mass.
I hope the heart that's hungry
For things above the floor,
Will find within its portals
An item rich in store;
That melancholy mortals
Will count their mercies o'er,
And learn that Truth and wisdom
Have many items more;
That when a wrong is done us,
It stirs no thought of strife;
And Love becomes the substance,
As item, of our life;
That every ragged urchin,
With bare feet soiled or sore,
Share God's most tender mercies, —
Find items at our door.
Then if we've done to others
Some good ne'er told before,
When angels shall repeat it,
'Twill be an item more.
DEDICATION OF A TEMPERANCE HALL
