Chained is the Spring. The Night… Blows over the hard earth; Time is not more confused and cold… Nor keeps more wintry mirth. Yet blow, and roll the world about…

If in my arms I bore my child, Would he cry out for fear Because the night was dark and wil… And no one else was near? Shall I then treat thee, Father,…

Said the boy as he read, ‘I too w… I will fight for the truth and its… He went to the playground, and soo… A very cowardly story! Said the girl as she read, ‘That…

My little boy, with smooth, fair c… And dreamy, large, brown eyes, Not often, little wisehead, speaks… But hearing, weighs and tries. ‘God is not only in the sky,’

A thousand houses of poesy stand a… They fill the earth and they fill… air; But to-night they have shut their… windows fair,

WHAT though my words glance side… Which I would utter in thine ear,… Truth in the inward parts thou dos… Wise hunger, not a fitness fine of… The little child that clamouring f…

Thy world is made to fit thine own… A nursery for thy children small, The playground-footstool of thy th… Thy solemn school-room, Father of… When day is done, in twilight’s gl…

Summer, sweet Summer, many-finger… We hold thee very dear, as well we… It is the kernel of the year to—da… All hail to thee! thou art a welco… If every insect were a fairy drumm…

O Lord, if on the wind, at cool o… I heard one whispered word of migh… If through the darkness, as in bed… But once had come a hand upon my f… If but one sign that might not be…

Dead, why defend thee, who in life For thy worst foe hadst died; Who, thy own name a word of strife… Didst silent stand aside? Grand in forgiveness, what to thee

Sweet friends, receive my offering… Against each worded page a white p… This is the mirror of each friendl… Reflecting that. In this book we… Make it, dear hearts, of worth to…

Now in the dark of February rains… Poor lovers of the sunshine, sprin… The earthy fields are full of hidd… And March’s violets bud along the… Therefore with joy believe in what…

The infant lies in blessed ease Upon his mother’s breast; No storm, no dark, the baby sees Invade his heaven of rest. He nothing knows of change or deat…

Where went the feet that hitherto… Here yawns no gulf to quench the f… With lengthening pauses broke, the… The grass floats in; the gazer sta… Tremble not, maiden, though the fo…

Forth to his study the sculptor go… In a mood of lofty mirth: ‘Now shall the tongues of my carpi… Confess what my art is worth! In my brain last night the vision…