The Morning Paper

The April world is misted with emerald and gold; The meadow larks are calling sweet and keen; Gypsy-heart is up and off for woodland and for wold, Roaming, roaming, roaming through the green.…

THE best of life, what is it but white moments? Those swift illuminations when we see The flying shadows on the fragrant meadows As God beholds them from eternity.…

Grim stones whose gray lips keep your secret well, Our hands that touch you touch an ancient terror, An ancient woe, colossal citadel Of some fierce faith, some heaven-affronting error.…

Honor and pity for the smitten field, The valorous ranks mown down like precious corn, Whose want must famish love morn after morn, Till Death, the good physician, shall have healed…

[sung to tune: "All Saints New"]Our fathers, in the years grown dim, reared slowly, wall by wall A holy dwelling-place for Him, that filleth all in all. They wrought His house of faith and prayer, the rainbow round the Throne, A precious temple builded fair on Christ the Cornerstone.The Angel of the Golden Reed hath found the measure strait'…

SHRUNKEN little bodies, pallid baby faces, Eyes of staring terror, innocence defiled, Tiny bones that strew the sand of silent places, — This upon our own star where Jesus was a child.…

What will you give to a barefoot lass, Morning with breath like wine? Wade, bare feet! In my wide morass Starry marigolds shine.…

THE weazen planet Mercury, Whose song is done, — Rash heart that drew too near His dazzling lord the Sun!—…