How Gently Rock Yon Poplars

When I Remember Something Which I Had, But Which Is Gone, And I Must Do Without, I Sometimes Wonder How I Can Be Glad, Even In Cowslip Time When Hedges Sprout; It Makes Me Sigh To Think On It,--but Yet My Days Will Not Be Better Days, Should I Forget.

O Fateful Flower Beside The Rill- The Daffodil, The Daffodil!

The Moon Is Bleached As White As Wool, And Just Dropping Under; Every Star Is Gone But Three, And They Hang Far Asunder,-- There's A Sea-ghost All In Gray, A Tall Shape Of Wonder!

A Healthful Hunger For A Great Idea Is The Beauty And Blessedness Of Life.

I Am Athirst For God, The Living God.