Praise to the Holiest in the height,
And in the depth be praise,
In all His words most wonderful;
Most sure in all His ways!

O loving wisdom of our God!
When all was sin and shame,
A second Adam to the fight
And to the rescue came.

O wisest love! that flesh and blood,
Which did in Adam fail,
Should strive afresh against the foe,
Should strive and should prevail;

And that a higher gift than grace
Should flesh and blood refine,
God's presence and His very Self,
And Essence all-divine.

XII

Was I never yet of your love grieved
Nor never shall while that my life doth last.
But of hating myself that date is past,
And tears continual sore have me wearied.
I will not yet in my grave be buried
Nor on my tomb your name yfixed fast
As cruel cause that did the spirit soon haste
From th'unhappy bones by great sighs stirred.
Then if an heart of amorous faith and will
May content you without doing grief,
Please it you so to this to do relief.
If otherwise ye seek for to fulfil
Your disdain, ye err and shall not as ye ween,

The pretty flowers were springing
In fields and meadows green
The little birds were singing
Where winter floods had been
Where I went to see my true love
Along the meadow way
Neath the willow rows and dew love
A courting Lucy Grey.

A bonny hat of finest straw
And ribbons black and blue
Her lips the bright and glossy haw
Her cheeks the roses dipt in dew
O she was fair as ony thing
And beautiful as gay
Blythe as a bonny morn o' spring
Was my sweet Lucy Grey.

O we loved and walked together

Kind fostering mother, let thy favouring care
Turn from the youthful band the yielding fair;
With love of aged swains their breasts inspire;
Weak though their limbs, yet strong is their desire.

CLIII

From thought to thought, from hill to hill love doth me lead.
Clean contrary from restful life these common paths I tread.

OW ORLD ! somewhat I have to say to thee.
O sin-sick, heart-sick, soul-sick, love-sick World!
So ailing art thou, both in part and particle,
That solid truth thy stomach ill digests.
Yet, since thou art my mother, I will love thee,
And heedless of thy frowns, “will speak right on.”

That which belongs to all men is least prized;
The thing most common is least understood.
That which is deep and silent is divine;
And there is nought on earth so craved, so common,
So misunderstood, or so divine, as Love.
When meted in proportion to man's need,

I send home your glove, my darling!
Darling! love and true!
Yester-eve left where you sat by me;
And my heart goes with it to you.

Goes with it all love and devotion,
To win sweet looks from your eyes,
Like the flower which, thirsting in Summer,
For the sweet rain at noon-day sighs.

I send it, yet fain would keep it,
For the little hand that, in mine,
Yester-eve so lovingly nestled,
When your kisses were sweeter than wine.

Come back soon!—I pine, my darling!
For the clasp of your hand again;

One forgets not the first dead he sorrowed over;
One forgets not the first kiss of the first lover.
Not the dust of ages could remembrance cover
How in Titian's golden kingdom first I strayed.

Oh, that Roman morning's azure, softly sifting
Through the gray, the while the rapt eye caught the rifting
Of the sun's rich fire where molten mists were drifting,
As one looks upon an opal gently swayed.

Ah! but in the palace there was sun more golden!
Art for once to Nature was no more beholden.
Man to his belovèd had the passion olden

Bonny Lassie dinna leave me
Losing thee would ever grieve me
If it be a sin to love thee
Why's the sun so bright above thee
Why's the sky so heavenly blue
My Jinney when I'm courting you
And when you go so dull's the scene
The simmer seems to lose its green
All wears the mist and mountain hue
When Jinneys gone there's naught to woo.

Nature puts on its mourning gown
And grass & leaves look black & brown
There's nothing lovely nothing sweet
Sin I wi Jinney failed to meet
The lark is silent all the day

When I am old,
And sadly steal apart,
Into the dark and cold,
Friend of my heart!
Remember, if you can,
Not him who lingers, but that other man,
Who loved and sang, and had a beating heart,—
When I am old!

When I am old,
And all Love's ancient fire
Be tremulous and cold:
My soul's desire!
Remember, if you may,
Nothing of you and me but yesterday,
When heart on heart we bid the years conspire
To make us old.

When I am old,
And every star above
Be pitiless and cold:
My life's one love!