All heavy minds
Do seek to ease their charge,
And that that most them binds
To let at large.

Then why should I
Hold pain within my heart,
And may my tune apply,
To ease my smart?

My faithful lute
Alone shall hear me plain;
For else all other suit
Is clean in vain.

For where I sue
Redress of all my grief,
Lo, they do most eschew
My heart's relief.

Alas, my dear,
Have I deserved so?
That no help may appear
Of all my woe?

Whom speak I to,
Unkind and deaf of ear?
Alas, lo, I go,

From This Life to a Better.
on March 24th, 1687. Aetatis Suae. 84
All Hallelujahs, Oh ye Heav'nly Quires ,
Ye Powers , ye Winged and Immortal Fires!
 Redouble to the Highest ONE :
Here's Joy, to your Eternal Jubile
Advanc'd, by th' New come welcome Company
 of a Bright Soul , but lately flown.
   Congratulate
   Eternally,
  With Sacred Symphony ,
   Her happy State.

Haile! Happy Soul! In Luster excellent
Transcending far the Starry Firmament ,
 Which is thy Footstool now become:

All hail the power of Jesus' name
Let angels prostrate fall;
Bring forth the royal diadem
To crown him Lord of all.

Crown him, ye martyrs of your God,
Who from his altar call;
Praise him whose way of pain ye trod,
And crown him Lord of all.

Ye prophets who our freedom won,
Ye searchers, great and small
By whom the work of truth is done,
Now crown him Lord of all.

Sinners, whose love can ne'er forget
The wormwood and the gall,
Go spread your trophies at his feet,
And crown him Lord of all.

BENEDICITE

" All Green Things on the earth, bless ye the Lord! "
So sang the choir while ice-cased branches beat
The frosty window-panes, and at our feet
The frozen, tortured sod but mocked the word,
And seemed to cry like some poor soul in pain,
" Lord, suffering and endurance fill my days;
The growing green things will their Maker praise, —
The happy green things, growing in warm rain!
So God lacks praise while all the fields are white! "
I said; then smiled, remembering southward far

All glory cannot vanish from the hills.
Their strength remains, their stature of command
O'er shadowy valleys that cool twilight fills
For wanderers weary in a faded land;
Refreshed when rain-clouds swell a thousand rills,
Ancient of days in green old age they stand,
Though lost the beauty that became Man's prey
When from their flanks he stripped the woods away.

But thin their vesture now — the trembling grass
Shivering and yielding as the breeze goes by,
Catching quick gleams and scudding shades that pass

All gentlemen, and yeomen good,
Down, a down, a down, a down,
I wish you to draw near;
For a story of gallant bold Robin Hood
Unto you I will declare.
Down a, &c.

As Robin Hood walkt the forrest along,
Some pastime for to spie,
There he was aware of a jolly shepherd,
That on the ground did lie.

Arise, arise, cried jolly Robin,
And now come let me see
What's in thy bag and bottle; I say,
Come tell it unto me.

" What's that to thee? thou proud fellow,
Tell me as I do stand:

These voices! Hark, Buchanan! All about thee,
 In the night-time, in the day-time, they are crying!
Within thee they are sounding, yet without thee,
 Ever growing on thy sense, and ever dying!

Sounds of weeping, sounds of jubilance and singing,
 Sobs of terror and of pain, and sighs of sorrow;
And their echoes thro' thine inmost Soul are ringing,
 While thy soul looks forth in wonder night and morrow.

Nay, but listen! … 'Tis the children's cry of gladness:
 Nay, but look! They smile with rosy faces hither!

ALL EVENING , while the summer trees were crying
Their sudden realization of the spring's sad death,
Somewhere a clock was ticking and we heard it here
In the sun-porch, where we sat so long, buying
Thoughts for a penny from each other. Near
Enough it was and loud to make us talk beneath our breath.

And a time for quiet talking it was, to be sure, although
The rain would have drowned the sound of our combined voices.
The spring of our youth that night suddenly dried,
And summer filled the veins of our lives like slow

A BALLAD

" The sun shines in a cloudless sky,
The lake is blue and still;
Up, Flora! on thine errand hie,
And climb the eyrie hill;

And tell my ancient kinsman there
To leave his lonely tower,
And at our yearly feast to share
The merry social hour. "

" Oh mother! do not bid me go;
I scarce can draw my breath,
When I see his eyes move to and fro,
His lowering brows beneath;

His moving lips, that give no sound,
My very spirits quell,

All else for use, One only for desire;
Thanksgiving for the good, but thirst for Thee:
Up from the best, whereof no man need tire,
Impel Thou me.

Delight is menace if Thou brood not by,
Power is a quicksand, Fame a gathering jeer.
Oft as the morn (though none of earth deny
These three are dear),

Wash me of them, that I may be renewed,
And wander free amid my freeborn joys:
Oh, close my hand upon Beatitude!
Not on her toys.