Salutation

Christ, I have read, did to His Chaplains say,
Sending them forth, Salute no man by'th way:
Not, that He taught His Ministers to be
Unsmooth, or sowre, to all civilitie;
But to instruct them, to avoid all snares
Of tardidation in the Lords Affaires.
Manners are good: but till his errand ends,
Salute we must, nor Strangers, Kin, or Friends.

Remembrance

R EMEMBRANCE , loved remembrance, that is all,
All that the true-born poet's soul desires;
Not more he seeks, not more he hopes to gain,
Cheered by his visions, still his heart aspires,
True to one aim, whatever ills befall,
With death content, if life be not all vain.

Reading a Book on a Winter Night

The snow envelops the mountain house; the tree shadows darken
The wind chime remains still; the night grows deeper and deeper
Quietly, I gather the scattered books and ponder the difficult words.
An ear of blue lamplight: the heart of the ancients.

Unborn

Little body I would hold,
Little feet my hands enfold,
Little head my tears have blessed,
Little mouth that seeks my breast,
Little shining soul that cries
From the worship of his eyes,
I must wait that I may be
Great enough to mother thee.

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