Poems

I made at dawn an humble cake, And broke the morsel with a friend; An handful will a banquet make, When oil and meal and leaven tend, And one. in faith's pure vessel blend.

Call him not a heretic whose works attest His faith in goodness by no creed confessed. Whatever in love's name is truly done To free the bound and lift the fallen one Is done to Christ.

I seek from thee, O perfect Love, A knowledge of the things above. Let sense no longer bind me fast To things of future, things of past, Or present things that cannot last; But give me now thy joy and song Which waft sweet notes of health along, To heal earth's weary, waiting throng.

Sweeter than twilight music winging thought to heights Unseen; serener than the summer sea in nights Of silver splendor; loftier than the peaks that part The freighted rain-clouds; brighter than the diamond's heart Where captive lightning flashes; changeless as the pine Whose green boughs greet alike the centuries' storm and shine; Firmer than rocks that rib the wrinkled hills; yet mild And white and songful as the pure mind of a child Is one against whose breast in vain sin hurls his spears, Whose armor mightier is than that at The tis' prayer By Vulcan forged. The strong, true man, priest at the shrine Of Truth, triumphant over doubt and pain and tears, Heir of the morning, lord of earth and sea and air, God's masterpiece, unveils his lineage divine.

And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. — Luke.

In sullen gusts the north-wind flays the brooding plain And sweeps the green hills of the sea, The while swift silver regiments of rain Encamp around the day and me; Deep in my heart Gaunt shadows start, And fear and sorrow charge with bayonets of pain. Hark! through the tear-sprent wilderness of storm and grief Sounds an exquisite melody; A Voice breathes.

Crespus has gold, while none have I, yet mine Are aurous buttercups, and gold divine From sunset's cupel blown at day's decline. Crespus has broad domains, but envy I His holdings? Nay: I have the broad, blue sky And sea wherein and o'er my dreambirds fly.

Before the Truth was Known. The wind is sighing through the leaves An autumn wind; It speaks to me of life's regret Of hopes unreached, but longed-for yet, Ungarnered sheaves.

Who lives in Love, lives too in God. He cleaves the air and spurns the sod, In skyward flight.

Servants of His who patient stand, In God's full heav'nly armor clad, His strength is yours in heart and hand, Yours is His joy when earth seems sad. Beyond the cloud, the silver rim Shows where the sun is shining through; The cloud that seems the light to dim Will fall as heaven's refreshing dew.