The beaten silver waters cut
By the prow of our ship,
Send off stars of phosphorous
To vie with the stars overhead.
Nothing but sky and the starlight,
And a stretch of limitless sea,
Nothing but peace and dominion,--
Silence, immensity.

_The Month of Moonlight_

Moonlight is not cold!
It is tender and benignant,
Softening all it touches,
Hiding the roughness,
Covering the coarseness,
With a glow of silver splendor
And a lucent flood
Of beauty.

_Wings_

There come to the flowers
In my garden
Butterflies, golden-spotted tawny,
Blue-spangled and sulphur;
Glistening dragon-flies, zooming bumble bees,
Droning honey-bees.

Softly whirring comes
The vivid humming-bird,
Sipping, sipping all day long.
At nightfall I hear the flutter of the
Luna's wings, as
She caresses the velvet cheek
Of the lily.

_Heart's Ease_

(_Locheven_)

I love to tread a winding path
Through the woods,
And, world weary, pause upon it.
The trees bend and enclose me
In brooding calm;
I feel the presence of Deity.

I hear the cadence of the stillness--
A stillness so alive.
The whisper of the leaves,
The song of the brook over golden stone
The whir of a bird's wings;
And I know the presence of Deity.

_The Sign Reads--"To Troutbeck"_

(_English Lakes_)

An upcurving lane, hedged high,
An ancient stile,
A rambling path,
A brook,
And musk,--
Golden bells of fragrance,
Fusing all the odors
Of English earth.

_I, Too_

Robin, robin,
Shouting your song,
Your throat swelling
With joy!
Yes, I hear, I know
What you say.
For I, too,
Would sing
My praise and
Gratitude
To God!

_In Early Evening_

When I drive through
The villages and the countryside
In early evening,
And see people sitting in gardens
Or at their doors
In peace and contentment,
I long to stop and speak to them.
They might tell me of a loved one
Doing some great work
In a big city,
Or of a deep sorrow,
And I might say a word
To help lighten it.
They might show me treasured china
Or a bit of lace, handmade;
Once some one did.
And I could talk with the children.
I long to do t