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Always man needs woman for his friend. He needs her clearer vision, her subtler insight, her softer thought, her winged soul, her pure and tender heart. Always woman needs man to be her friend. She needs the vigor of his purpose, the ardor of his will, his calmer judgment, his braver force of action, his reverence and his devotion. - [Discretion] Most people carry an ideal man and woman in their head, and when the practical relations of the men and women of every day are discussed with reference only to these impossible ideals, we need not marvel at any ridiculous conclusions. - [Ideality] Of all our loving Father's gifts I often wonder which is best, And cry: Dear God, the one that lifts Our soul from weariness to rest, The rest of silence--that is best. - [Rest] The way is short, O friend, That reaches out before us; God's tender heavens above us bend, His love is smiling o'er us; A little while is ours For sorrow or for laughter; I'll lay the hand you love in yours On the shore of the Hereafter. - [Friends] What shall I do, my friend, When you are gone forever? My heart its eager need will send Through the years to find you never, And how will it be with you, In the weary world, I wonder, Will you love me with a love as true, When our paths lie far asunder? - [Friends] I lie amid the Goldenrod, I love to see it lean and nod; I love to feel the grassy sod Whose kindly breast will hold me last, Whose patient arms will fold me fast!-- Fold me from sunshine and from song, Fold me from sorrow and from wrong: Through gleaming gates of Goldenrod I'll pass into the rest of God. - Goldenrod (last stanza) [Goldenrods] The Indian Summer, the dead Summer's soul. - Presence (l. 62) [Summer] To serve thy generation, this thy fate: "Written in water," swiftly fades thy name; But he who loves his kind does, first and late, A work too late for fame. - The Journalist (last stanza) [Journalism] Only a newspaper! Quick read, quick lost, Who sums the treasure that it carries hence? Torn, trampled under feet, who counts thy cost, Star-eyed intelligence? - The Journalist (st. 9) [Journalism] A shining isle in a stormy sea, We seek it ever with smiles and sighs; To-day is sad. In the bland To-be, Serene and lovely To-morrow lies. - To-morrow [Tomorrow]
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