Far from “where the roses rest”,     Round the altar and the aisle,    Which I loved, of all, the best —     I have come to rest awhile    By…

    To-day a bird on wings as white as foam        That crests the blue-gray wave,    With the vesper light upon its breast, flew home        Seaward. The God who gave    To…

           One idle day —    A mile or so of sunlit waves off shore —            In a breezeless bay,            We listless lay —    Our boat a “dream of rest” on…

   We laugh when our souls are the saddest,     We shroud all our griefs in a smile;    Our voices may warble their gladdest,     And our souls mourn…

           Only a few more years!             Weary years!            Only a few more tears!             Bitter tears!    And then — and then — like other men,     I cease to wander,…

[Written after the yellow fever epidemic of 1878.]     Purer than thy own white snow,     Nobler than thy mountains’ height;    Deeper than the ocean’s flow,     Stronger than…

   My feet are wearied, and my hands are tired,        My soul oppressed —    And I desire, what I have long desired —        Rest — only rest.     ‘Tis hard…

  “My Sister”     Cometh a voice from a far-land!     Beautiful, sad, and low;    Shineth a light from the star-land!     Down on the night of my woe;    And a…

    Poets are strange — not always understood     By many is their gift,    Which is for evil or for mighty good —     To lower or to lift….

    Sometimes the Saviour sleeps, and it is dark;     For, oh! His eyes are this world’s only light,    And when they close wild waves rush on His…