Where the bathers on the sand
Lie sea-freshened and sun-tanned.
Thus I pass the gates of time
And the boundaries of clime,
Change the ugly man-made street
For God's country green and sweet.
Fag of body, irk of mind,
In a moment left behind,
Once more I possess my soul
With the poise and self-control
Beauty gives the free of heart
Through the sorcery of art.
Threnody for a Poet
Not in the ancient abbey,
Nor in the city ground,
Not in the lonely mountains,
Nor in the blue profound,
Lay him to rest when his time is come
And the smiling mortal lips are dumb;
But here in the decent quiet
Under the whispering pines,
Where the dogwood breaks in blossom
And the peaceful sunlight shines,
Where wild birds sing and ferns unfold,
When spring comes back in her green and gold.