Come, thou Almighty Will!
Our fainting bosoms fill
With thy great power;
Strength of our good intents,
Our tempted hour's Defence,
Calm of faith's confidence,
Come, in this hour!

Come, thou most tender Love!
Within our spirits move,
Their sweetest guest;
Extinguish passion's fire,
Exalt each low desire,
To deeds of love inspire,
Quickener and Rest!

Come, Light serene and still!
Our darkened spirits fill
With thy clear day;
Guide of the feeble sight,
Star of our darkest night,

It was the hour of moonlight, and the bells
Had rung their curfew tones, and they were still;
The echo died around the distant hill,
Sinking in faint and fainter falls and swells,
Accordant with the fitful wind, that blew
Over the new-mown meadow, where the dew
Stood twinkling on the closely shaven stems,
Glittering as 't were a carpet sown with gems;
And from the winding river there arose
A mist, that curled in volumed folds, and gave
A snowy mantle to the stealing wave,
Like that which fancy, love-enchanted, throws

Alas, a veiled and silent Comer
Has dimmed the stars and hid the sun!
Gone is the glory of the summer,
And life is done.

Oh, life is done, for hope is banished,
What joy can be for you in store,
When the one face you loved has vanished
For evermore?

Nay, lonely mother, love is stronger
Than any tyranny of death;
Does faithful love survive no longer

This is the reckless thing I do,
Simply because her eyes are blue,
As are the summer skies above her; —
Merely because her eyes are blue,
This is the foolish thing I do,
I love, love, love her.

Even while chopping
the dried vegetables
her heart was aflutter

When the horse stays in
the groom makes love at home.

" Here lieth love. " Deep lettered on a stone
Are these few words, but never name and date
To say what heart would so commemorate
A dear dead love, or by what hand were strewn
The withered roses. Hither, thither blown,
A willow's branches quiver with a freight
Of melody that seems articulate;
But men who listen merely catch a moan —
" Here lieth love. "

Mine are the roses and the dead love there.
But silence! breathe no names; it were not meet
That she should know love perished from despair

A cat's wife —
grown thin from
love and barley?

Take me, O my Father! take me —
Take me, save me, through thy Son;
That which thou wouldst have me, make me,
Let thy will in me be done.

Long from thee my footsteps straying,
Thorny proved the way I trod;
Weary come I now, and praying —
Take me to thy love, my God!

Fruitless years with grief recalling,
Humbly I confess my sin!
At thy feet, O Father, falling,
To thy household take me in.

Freely now to thee I proffer,
This relenting heart of mine;
Freely, life and soul I offer,

Wee Shemus was a misdropt man
Without a shoulder to his back;
He had the way to lift a rann
And throttled rabbits in a sack.

And red-haired Mary whom he wed,
Brought him but thirty shillings told;
She had but one eye in her head,
But Shemus counted it for gold.

The two went singing in the hay
Or kissing underneath the sloes,
And where they chanced to pass the day
There was no need to scare the crows.

But now with Mary waked and laid
As decent as she lived and died,
Poor Shemus went to buy a spade

I called for love;
And at the name,
From a black sky
White lightning came.

I called for love,
Then sank abashed;
From a dumb cloud
Wild thunder crashed.