THE PRISON AND THE ANGEL

  Self is the only prison that can ever bind the soul;
  Love is the only angel who can bid the gates unroll;
  And when he comes to call thee, arise and follow fast;
  His way may lie through darkness, but it leads to light at last.

THE WAY

  Who seeks for heaven alone to save his soul,
  May keep the path, but will not reach the goal;
  While he who walks in love may wander far,
  But God will bring him where the Blessed are.

LOVE AND LIGHT

  There are many kinds of love, as many kinds of light,
  And every kind of love makes a glory in the night. 
  There is love that stirs the heart, and love that gives it rest,
  But the love that leads life upward is the noblest and the best.

FACTA NON VERBA

Deeds not Words:  I say so too!  And yet I find it somehow true, A word may help a man in need, To nobler act and braver deed.

FOUR THINGS

  Four things a man must learn to do
  If he would make his record true: 
  To think without confusion clearly;
  To love his fellow-men sincerely;
  To act from honest motives purely;
  To trust in God and Heaven securely.

THE GREAT RIVER

     "In la sua volontade e nostra pace."

  O mighty river! strong, eternal Will,
  Wherein the streams of human good and ill
  Are onward swept, conflicting, to the sea! 
  The world is safe because it floats in Thee.

INSCRIPTION FOR A TOMB IN ENGLAND

  Read here, O friend unknown,
    Our grief, of her bereft;
  Yet think not tears alone
    Within our hearts are left. 
  The gifts she came to give,
    Her heavenly love and cheer,
  Have made us glad to live
    And die without a fear.

1912.

THE TALISMAN

  What is Fortune, what is Fame? 
  Futile gold and phantom name,—­
  Riches buried in a cave,
  Glory written on a grave.

  What is Friendship?  Something deep
  That the heart can spend and keep: 
  Wealth that greatens while we give,
  Praise that heartens us to live.

  Come, my friend, and let us prove
  Life’s true talisman is love! 
  By this charm we shall elude
  Poverty and solitude.

January 21, 1914.

THORN AND ROSE

  Far richer than a thornless rose
  Whose branch with beauty never glows,
  Is that which every June adorns
  With perfect bloom among its thorns.

  Merely to live without a pain
  Is little gladness, little gain,
  Ah, welcome joy tho’ mixt with grief,—­
  The thorn-set flower that crowns the leaf.