O! for some minster where the balm Of cooling touch my wounds might heal; Where always dwells a Sabbath calm, Made sweeter by the solemn peal Of bells, that trembling fill the air With noble notes of perfect prayer!
SHADOWS
Shadows, the pale grey wings of night, Sweep over the sky, And low in the west the lingering light Wanes—like a sigh From the fervent heart of the day Passing away: Then afar Shineth a star.
Shadows, the pale grey wings of Death, Sweep over my heart; And far in the dark a voice calleth, "Come ye, depart." There lingers no light from the day Passing away, But afar Shineth a Star!
WHEN I WAS A LAD
When I was a lad in Petherick I often lay me down And built a beautiful city And called it London Town. I filled its streets with heroes Beautiful strong and wise, Men who were kings and princes, Women with kindly eyes. I spent the gold of the charlock For paving the city street; I saw bright flags awaving Over the billowing wheat; And loud in the brown bee's buzzing I heard the far-off hum Of the mart and the busy merchants, And the wharves where the big ships come. When I was a lad in Petherick I often lay me down, And built this wonderful city, And called it London Town.