Twisted, seared and stunted, Radiant, sweet and glad; Who shall say that one is “good” And another “bad”? THE PASSER-BY In the fragrant, moonlit night, Without a thought of fear, I wakened in my seaward room And felt a Presence near. The open window glowed, And suddenly I knew That Some One was out walking Above the summer dew. The tall pines held their breath, And the little cedar trees, With all the grasses in the field, Were kneeling on their knees. Beyond the dunes the sea Was like a silver floor, For Some One’s holy feet to cross Out of a foreign shore. Then lo! Above the trees A halo, round and bright! No more I saw of One who passed All silent in the night. FROST Hark to a call in the late September night, From the little garden-close crying—crying! As the cold stars watch from their safe, untroubled height, Faintly breathes the scented prayer—“Help! We are dying!” Who would invade the sisterhood of flowers, In their cloistered innocence fresh and gently gay? What so cruel foe would dare profane the hours, To fright the tender sleeping buds and steal their peace away? Hark! The wistful cry again! Wafted o’er the grasses Comes the trembling fragrance, a sigh from hearts of gold. Something sly and sinister in the shadow passes; Shivering draw the covers close, the blood runs cold! Lo, in the morning, the bleak and hoary morning. Desolate the garden where the white foe crept; Wall or moat no bar to him, come without a warning. Capturing the pretty ones helpless where they slept. Cruel was the touch of him, blighting was his breath. Beauty shrank before him, but found no place to hide. Fragile, piteous martyrs coldly done to death, Was there none to answer when your sweet souls cried? WINTER SONG Because I sang in April With magic in the air. Must I be sad and silent now When winter boughs are bare? My heart is not a songster That waits upon the spring, But while there is a blessèd sky And friendly earth, I sing!