How hotly men will wrangle—
One furious with another!
See how the strong hands mangle
Some poor down-trodden brother.
Is this the lofty nature?
Is this the lordly mind?
Can no poor human creature
Love and be kind?

But if such strife be common,
There still are nobler spirits
To rescue and illumine,
The mould that man inherits.
Such, with the lamp of goodness,
A tranquil pathway find,
Such, in the raging rudeness,
Are gentle and kind.

Strive boldly, human brother—
Not with your fellow-creature
But in self-war—to smother

Thou art the very marrow of my soul,
Thou art the very substance of my thought.
Absent, I still am conscious of the whole,
Glad impulse that my life from thee has caught.
Core of my core and center of my brain,
Pulse of my pulse and essence of my pain,
I sleep to meet thee in a world apart,
Thy love a moonlight blossom on my heart.
Thou art the very beating of my blood,
Thou art the wings of every soaring aim,
And all the tides of life are at the flood,
Since loving came.

Dearest, thou art so beautifully nigh!

Love me brought
And love me wrought,
Man, to be thy fere;
Love me fed,
And love me led,
And love me letteth here.

Love me slew,
And love me drew
And love me laid on bier;
Love is my peace,
For love I chese
Man to buyen dear.

Ne dread thee nought,
I have thee sought
Both by day and night,
To haven thee;
Well is to me,
I have thee won in fight.

Ye maidens attend to my tale,
Of love that sly archer take care;
His darts o'er all ranks do prevail,
The wealthy, the wise, and the fair.

When once his fierce arrow he throws,
Contentment will bid you adieu;
No potion the doctor bestows,
Can then be of service to you.

Experience prompts me to tell,
I felt his tyrannical sway;
The time I remember too well;
It was a long month and a day.

The youth, I'll not mention his name,
Who was the sole cause of my smart,
His deeds were unnotic'd by fame,
His manners unpolish'd by art.

I was hungry, and Thou feddest me;
Yea, Thou gavest drink to slake my thirst:
O Lord, what love gift can I offer Thee
Who hast loved me first?—

Feed My hungry brethren for My sake;
Give them drink, for love of them and Me:
Love them as I loved thee, when Bread I brake
In pure love of thee.—

Yea, Lord, I will serve them by Thy grace;
Love Thee, seek Thee, in them; wait and pray:
Yet would I love Thyself, Lord, face to face,
Heart to heart, one day.—

Let today fulfil its daily task,
Fill thy heart and hand to them and Me:

To her house
I come,
in vain, it seems,
and turn to go,
when I hear
a sound
that makes
me, too, fall silent,
just standing there,

Larkspur and Hollyhock,
Pink Rose and purple Stock,
Lovely smelling Mignonette,
Lilies not quite opened yet,
Phlox the favorite of bees,
Bleeding Heart and Peonies
Just their names are nice to say,
Softly,
On a summer's day.

Lord it is my chief complaint,
That my love is weak and faint;
Yet I love Thee and adore,--
Oh! for grace to love Thee more!

Love and the Graces evermore do wait
Upon the man that is a Potentate.

High in the pine-tree
The little Turtle-dove
Made a little nursery,
To please her little love.
“Coo,” said the Turtle-dove,
“Coo,” said she;
In the long shady branches
Of the dark pine-tree.