Then if high Fortune far from thee take wing,
  Why shouldst thou envy Counsellor or King? 
  Purple or buckram—­wherefore make ado
  What coat may cover, so the heart be true?

  But if at last thou gather wealth at will,
  Thou best shalt succour those that need it still;
  Since he who best doth poverty endure,
  Should prove when rich heart’s brother to the poor.

WILD WINE OF NATURE

IN PRAISE OF WATER-DRINKING

(After Duncan Ban McIntyre)

  Wild Wine of Nature, honey tasted,
  Ever streaming, never wasted,
  From long and long and long ago
  In limpid, cool, life-giving flow
  Up-bubbling with its cordial bland
  Even from the thirsty desert sand—­
  O draught to quench man’s thirst upon
  Far sweeter than the cinnamon! 
  Like babes upon their mother’s breast,
  To Earth our craving lips are pressed
  For her free gift of matchless price,
  Pure as it poured in Paradise.

BRIDAL INVOCATION

  Jesu, from to-day
  Guide us on our way,
  So shall we, no moment wasting,
  Follow Thee with holy hasting,
  Led by Thy dear Hand
  To the Blessed land.

  Through despondence dread,
  Still support our tread;
  Though our heavy burdens bow us,
  How to bear them bravely, show us! 
  Such adversity
  Is but the path to Thee.

  When our bosom’s grief
  Clamours for relief,
  When we share another’s sorrow,
  May we Thy sweet patience borrow,
  That to our Heavenly Father’s Will
  We may trust each issue still.

  Thus our onward way,
  Order day by day,
  Though upon rough roads Thou set us,
  Thy fond care shall ne’er forget us,
  Till “underneath Death’s darkening door;
  We see the glimmering of Heaven’s floor.”

THE COMING OF SIR GALAHAD AND A VISION OF THE GRAIL

At the solemn Feast of Pentecost Arthur the King and his chosen Knights
Sat, as we sit, in the Court of Camelot side by side at The Table Round. 
None made music, none held converse, none knew hunger, none were athirst,
Each possessed with the same strange longing, each fulfilled with one
awful hope;
Each of us fearing even to whisper what he felt to his bosom friend,
Lest the spell should be snapped in sunder.

                                      Thus we sat awaiting a sign! 
  When, on a sudden, out of the distance blared the bugle that hangs at
    the gate;
  Loud the barbican leaped on its hinges; and the hollow porch and the
    vacant hall
  And the roof of the long resounding corridor echoed the advent of unknown
    feet,
  The feet of a stranger approaching the threshold step by step irresistibly: 
  Till opened yonder door and through it strode to this Table the Virgin
    Knight—­
  Strode and stood with uplifted vizor.