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Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
'What writest thou?' The vision raised its head,
Answered, the names of those who love the Lord.'
'And is mine one? Said Abou. 'Nay, not so,'
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerily still; and said, 'I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men.'
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.


The gentle Twilight Lady
Is coming. Let her pass.
She scatters from her basket
The dewdrops on the grass.
She closes up the lilies,
She sends the bees to bed,
And throws a veil of silver
Upon the rowans red.
And thro' the drowsy forest
She bids the birds be still,
And listens, turns, and listens
Unto the wakeful rill.
Then those who love the moortops,
And to the hills belong,
May hear adown the valley
The Twilight Lady's song,
Calling in lonely music,
That breaks the heart o' the wild,
For Night, her star-eyed lover,
To bring back Peace - their child.


"Doctor, doctor, my left leg is giving me a lot of pain."
"I expect that's old age." "But my right is as old, and that doesn't hurt me at all!"


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