Charles Hanson Towne

Around the corner I have a friend,
In this great city that has no end,
Yet the days go by and weeks rush on,
...

When he went blundering back to God,
   His songs half written, his work half done,
Who knows what paths his bruised feet trod,
   What hills of peace or pain he won?
...

Breathe me the ancient words when I shall find
   Your spirit mine; if, seeking you, life wins
New wonder, with old splendor let us bind
   Our hearts when Love's high sacrament begins.
...

Roof-tops, roof-tops, what do you cover?
Sad folk, bad folk, and many a glowing lover;
Wise people, simple people, children of despair --
Roof-tops, roof-tops, hiding pain and care.
...

When, sick of all the sorrow and distress
   That flourished in the City like foul weeds,
   I sought blue rivers and green, opulent meads,
And leagues of unregarded loneliness
...

(Ave! Francis Thompson)

He had been singing -- but I had not heard his voice;
He had been weaving lovely dreams of song,
...

The jealous Sea moaned in the April night:
'Lo! there are comrades hidden in my heart,
...

Loud on my roof the regiments of rain
March with their old insistence, and I hear
Troop after troop, column and troop again,
...

If this be friendship--that one broken hour
(O fragile link in all the loving years!)
...

I need so much the quiet of your love,
After the day's loud strife;
I need your calm all other things above,
After the stress of life.
...

She knew that Love was dying--not so much
When Love's dear eyes were closed and blind to her,
As when, with patient word and tender touch,
...

City I love—and hate!—how can I sing
The miracles of your might in such a mood?
How can I still the anger in my heart,
...

The lilies whisper in the park,
Pale watchers in the heavy night,
Wan ghosts that haunt the fragrant dark.
...

When Spring, with blossom-haunted lanes,
With sudden gusts of rippling rains,
Came dancing down the glad young year,
...

April, when I heard
Your lyrical low word,
And when upon the hawthorn hedge your first white blossoms stirred,
...

I have heard the roar and clamor through the city's crowded ways
Of the never-ending pageant moving down the busy days--
...

The turrets leap higher and higher,
And the little old homes go down;
The workmen pound on the iron and steel--
...

In every trembling bud and bloom
That cleaves the earth, a flowery sword,
I see Thee come from out the tomb,
Thou risen Lord.
...

Who loves all beauty loves beyond that we see;
The gods give him a vision doubly blest;
He sees the bloom upon the hawthorn-tree,
...

Three days I heard them grieve when I lay dead,
(It was so strange to me that they should weep!)
Tall candles burned about me in the dark,
...