Upon her faithful frame togs
Of beauty hangs;
Rosy robe, smelling myrrh.


All the go love is unambiguous--
Nought hid; clear
Like glass, soft like foulard.

Soul filled with gall, tears flow:
Crimson rushing on the snow.

Left home for office
Left home for somewhere
Left home for business
Only to appear elsewhere,

Where eternity steadies its swinging door.

Goodbye turns to abrupt good night,
Cold darkness replaces warm light.

Husband never returning more
Wife gone to another shore
Children laughs fade like leaves
Merry home in sorrow's sleeves.

Though evil men cannot ever cease;
In Jesus's hand commit our lives.

everything                   illuminate
is                                   the
a gift                            darkness
freely                  ­         of my
given                            soul

Though mine eyes do the beholding
In probing, scanning and reviewing:
Measuring quantity against quality;

And though the scales of mine eyes
Unsteady are, altering like weather,
As my sight's balances beauty rank
By the ratio of its carat to dross,
Which are counterpoising each other
Like Michael and Lucifer--the frank

And the false; yet put I the manipulation,
The entire enterprise of my intention

Upon my heart. For though these eyes
Fairness understand but are unwise
Still to fathom the depth of love
On those twain pans of duplicity.

The beckoning ***** to the heart
Must thus tilt the weight in reckoning
Affection that the lop-sided lips wooing
A gold precious of a great rate,
That bears the hallmark of a prized proof,
May win no bauble nor feigned fancy.

Night decks out in saffron gown,
Sparkling stones on evening neck.
Couched Venus out of her lunar lair,
Panting for Apollo's fresh dewy peck.
Settling upon her grand fluffy down,
He turns to strings her goodly hair--
Arousing apace all the sleeping stars
By his tunes that rival the Steinway's.

They that cannot for God's
gold
wait dash for the devil's dross.

w                                                                ­                                       page
     o                                                                ­                  g           the
          r                                                  ­                     n             off
             d                                                    p          
                 s                                            a             i
                                                         e
                      bounce                  l
                                    aro­und

On the green pastures of tranquil peace
And prosperity may my soul famished
Ever be laid, to be fed and sated . . .

May my heart parched find solace
Beside the brook of goodness still
And cool, and my emptiness refill . . .

Serenity for trouble, joy for sorrow:
Let singing boughs bear the barren
Figs--bringing forth fruit of wren . . .

Arrow aimed at a flying sparrow,
Man must live not by bread alone.
He gains heaven that hell doth disown.