Woman! thoughtless, giddy creature,
Laughing, idle, flutt'ring thing:
Most uncertain work of nature,
Still, like fancy, on the wing.

Slave to ev'ry changing passion,
Loving, hating, in extreme:
Fond of ev'ry foolish fashion,
And, at best, a pleasing dream.

Lovely-trifle! dear-illusion!
Conquering-weakness! wished-for-pain!
Man's chief glory and confusion,
Of all vanity most vain!

Thus, deriding beauty's power,
Bevil called it all a cheat;
But in less than half an hour
Kneeled and whined at Celia's feet.

Still abide the heaven-born three,
Faith, and Hope, and Charity!
Faith—to point out our heavenly goal,
Hope—an anchor to the soul:
Faith and Hope must pass away;
Charity endure for aye!

Hope must in possession die;
Faith—in blissful certainty:
These to gladden each were given;
Love, or Charity—for heaven!
For, in brighter realms above,
Charity survives—as Love.

Love to Him, the great I AM!
Love to Him, the atoning Lamb!
Love unto the Holy Ghost!
Love to all the heavenly host!
Love to all the human race,
Sanctified by saving grace!

In the dim watches of the midmost night,
A ghost confronts him, standing by his bed,
A lonesome ghost who walks uncomforted,
Pale child of Memory and dead Delight,
No longer fair or pleasant in his sight.
With dusky hair upon her shoulders shed,
And cypress leaves for garland on her head,
As patient as the moonlight and as white,
She stands beside him, and puts forth her hand
To lead him backward into Love's lost Land—
Sad Land which shadows people, and where wait
Memory, her sire, and dead Delight, his mate—
And standing there among the shadowy band,

So Love, emergent out of chaos, brought
The world to light!
And gently moving on the waters, wrought
All form to sight!
Love's appetite
Did beauty first excite,
And left imprinted in the air
Those signatures of good and fair,
CHORUS

Which since have flowed, flowed forth upon the sense,
To wonder first, and then to excellence,
By virtue of divine intelligence!

The Ingemination
And Neptune too
Shows what his waves can do,
To call the muses all to play
And sing the birth of Venus' day,
CHORUS

Look at my heart: see how it bleeds with tears,
Love's wound still open all these weary years.
Help me, dear maid, for I am sore distrest;
No surgeon's hand can lull my pain to rest.
I am poor Telephus; you Achilles be
And heal the wound your beauty made in me.

I said, “If I come to thee, wilt thou greet me with a kiss?”
Said she, “Hast thou a thousand heads that thou askest this of me?”
I said, “Thy raven tresses are like so many black cobras.”
Said she, “Why trust thyself within the cobra's reach?”
I said, “In what fashion then shall I approach thee?”
Said she, “Without sword can head parted be from body?”
I said, “I ever wander in distraction in thy search!”
Said she, “Wise art thou, why then thus disgrace thyself?”
I said, “But for a moment let us two be happy together.”

Scarred with sensuality and pain
And weary labor in a mind not hard
Enough to think, a heart too always tender,
Sits the Christ of failure with his lovers.
They are wiser than his parables,
But he more potent, for he has the gift
Of hopelessness, and want of faith, and love.

1. Wide open are Thy hands, Paying with more than gold
2. Wide open are Thine arms, A fallen world to embrace;
The awful debt of guilty men, Forever and of old.
To take to love and endless rest. Our whole forsaken race.
Ah, let me grasp those hands, That we may never part,
Lord, I am sad and poor, But boundless is Thy grace;
And let the power of their blood Sustain my fainting heart.
Give me the soultransforming joy For which I seek Thy face.

3. Draw all my mind and heart
Up to Thy throne on high,
And let Thy sacred Cross exalt
My spirit to the sky.

My love is like the lily flower
That blooms upon the lea:
I wadna gie ae blink o' her
For a' the maids I see.

Her voice is like the bonnie bird's,
That warbles 'mang the bow'rs,
Her breath is like the hawthorn when
It's wat wi' morning show'rs.

And frae the gowans o' the glen
She's caught her modest grace,
And a' the blushes o' the rose
Hae leapt into her face.

She bears aboot, I kenna hoo,
The joy o' simmer days,
The voice o' streams, and happy dreams
Amang the broomy braes.

And when the bonnie lassie smiles

I am true to my lord.
O my companions, there is nothing to be ashamed of now,
Since I have been seen dancing openly.

In the day I have no hunger.
I am always restless and sleep does not come in the night.
Leaving troubles behind, I shall go to the other side,
Because hidden knowledge has taken hold of me.

All my relations have come and surrounded me like bees.
But Mira is the servant of her beloved, the Mountain-holder.
And she cares not though the people mock her.