Do angels come as flowers, O golden stars! That I can hold within my small white palm? Or were you dropped from o’er the cryst...

How still and dusky is the long closed room! What lingering shadows and what sweet perfume Of Eastern treasures; sandal-wood a...

The king may rule o’er land and sea, The lord may live right royally, The soldier ride in pomp and pride, The sailor roam ...

I have a little comforter I carry in my pocket; It is not any woman’s face Set in a golden locket; It is not any kind ...

My hands have often been weary hands, Too tired to do their daily task; And just to fold them forevermore Has seemed the b...

There’s a blacksmith works not far away, He is brawny and strong and tall; He’s at his forge when the shadows lift, And he...

Now, poor tired hands, be still, Toil-stained through Death’s white hue; No need now for your skill, No further task to do...