For I had pondered on a rune of roses, The wisdom of the world said: “There are bays: After the stress of the laborious days." “Yet,” said I, “shall I be the worms' sweet food,” As I went musing on a rune of roses, Which in her hour, the pale, soft moon discloses. Then said my voices: "Wherefore strive or run, And knew some secrets which the moon discloses. “Yea,” said I, “for her eyes are pure and sweet As lilies, and the fragrance of her hair Is many laurels; and it is not meet To run for shadows when the prize is here”; Ernest Dowson [1867-1900] FRIENDSHIP AND BROTHERHOOD SALVE! To live within a cave-it is most good; And some one come, and say, "Lo! I have gathered fagots in the wood!" E'en let him stay, And light a fire, and fan a temporal mood! So sit till morning! when the light is grown Then bid the man God-speed! His morning is not thine: yet must thou own They have a cheerful warmth—those ashes on the stone. Thomas Edward Brown [1830-1897] ABOU BEN ADHEM ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!) Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord." Replied the Angel. Abou spoke more low, The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night It came again with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had blessed, And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. Leigh Hunt [1784-1859] ་་ ENVOY From More Songs from Vagabondia " I WHOSE furthest footstep never strayed To-morrow he shall take his pack, II If any record of our names Be blown about the hills of time, Of all our good, of all our bad, The only purpose of the earth. Richard Hovey [1864-1900] FRIENDS You ask me "why I like him." Nay, The pros and cons of a kindred soul. You "wonder he should be my friend." Cherish this one small mystery; A truce, a truce to questioning: Because he is he and I am I. ALL that he came to give, As one of us, he wrought The natural beauty of a flower? Magnificence and grace, A brightness on the face, Airs of high memory: Whence came all these, to such as he? Like young Shakespearean kings, He won the adoring throng: And as Apollo sings, He triumphed with a song: Triumphed, and sang, and passed along. With a light word, he took Welcomed them, at his call Giving their love, their strength, their all. No man less proud than he, Nor cared for homage less: Far off from happiness: Nature was bound to his success. Weary, the cares, the jars, The lets, of every day: But the heavens filled with stars, Chanced he upon the way: And where he stayed, all joy would stay. Now when the night draws down, My thoughts and memories yearn Yet have I seen him live, And owned my friend, a king: He gave and I, who sing His praise, bring all I have to bring. Lionel Johnson [1867-1902] BILL AND JOE COME, dear old comrade, you and I When you were Bill and I was Joe: |