ing you.

Folded eyes and folded hands
Typify divine commands
He is hearkening to, intent
Beyond wonderment.

'Tis promotion that has come
Thus upon him. Stricken dumb
Be your moanings dolorous!
God knows what He does.

Rather as your chief, _aspire_!--
Rise and seize his toppling lyre,
And sing Freedom, Home, and Love,
And the rights thereof!

Ere in selfish grief ye sink,
Come! catch rapturous breath and think--
Think what sweep of wing hath he,
Loosed in endless liberty.

MEREDITH NICHOLSON

Keats, and Kirk White, David Gray and the rest of you
Heavened and blest of you young singers gone,--
Slender in sooth though the theme unexpressed of you,
Leave us this like of you yet to sing on!
Let your Muse mother him and your souls brother him,
Even as now, or in fancy, you do:
Still let him sing to us ever, and bring to us
Musical musings of glory and--you.

Never a note to do evil or wrong to us--
Beauty of melody--beauty of words,--
Sweet and yet strong to us comes his young song to us
Rippled along to us clear as the bird's.
No fame elating him falsely, nor sating him--
Feasting and feting him faint of her joys,
But singing on where the laurels are waiting him,
Young yet in art, and his heart yet a boy's.

GOD'S MERCY

Behold, one faith endureth still--
Let factions rail and creeds contend--
God's mercy _was_, and _is_, and _will_
Be with us, foe and friend.

CHRISTMAS GREETING

A word of Godspeed and good cheer
To all on earth--or far or near,
Or friend or foe, or thine or mine--
In echo of the voice divine,
Heard when the Star bloomed forth and lit
The world's face, with God's smile on it.

TO RUDYARD KIPLING

To do some worthy deed of charity
In secret and then have it found out by
Sheer accident, held gentle Elia--
That--that was the best thing beneath the sky!
Confirmed in part, yet somewhat differing--
(Grant that his gracious wraith will pardon me
If impious!)--I think a better thing
Is: being found out when one strives to be.

So, Poet and Romancer--old as young,
And wise as artless--masterful as mild,--
If there be sweet in any song I've sung,
'Twas savored for that palate, O my