The Poems of Henry Van Dyke eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 381 pages of information about The Poems of Henry Van Dyke.

  Furl your sail, my little boatie,
      Fold your wings, my weary dove. 
  Dews are sprinkling, stars are twinkling
          Drowsily above. 
  Cease from sailing, cease from rowing;
  Rock upon the dream-tide, knowing
  Safely o’er your rest are glowing,
      All the night, my little boatie,
          Harbour-lights of love.



  Lord Jesus, Thou hast known
    A mother’s love and tender care: 
        And Thou wilt hear,
          While for my own
        Mother most dear
          I make this birthday prayer.

  Protect her life, I pray,
    Who gave the gift of life to me;
        And may she know,
          From day to day,
        The deepening glow
          Of joy that comes from Thee.

  As once upon her breast
    Fearless and well content I lay,
        So let her heart,
          On Thee at rest,
        Feel fear depart
          And trouble fade away.

  Ah, hold her by the hand,
    As once her hand held mine;
        And though she may
          Not understand
        Life’s winding way,
          Lead her in peace divine.

  I cannot pay my debt
    For all the love that she has given;
        But Thou, love’s Lord,
          Wilt not forget
        Her due reward,—­
          Bless her in earth and heaven.


  Only a little shrivelled seed,
  It might be flower, or grass, or weed;
  Only a box of earth on the edge
  Of a narrow, dusty window-ledge;
  Only a few scant summer showers;
  Only a few clear shining hours;
  That was all.  Yet God could make
  Out of these, for a sick child’s sake,
  A blossom-wonder, fair and sweet
  As ever broke at an angel’s feet.

  Only a life of barren pain,
  Wet with sorrowful tears for rain,
  Warmed sometimes by a wandering gleam
  Of joy, that seemed but a happy dream;
  A life as common and brown and bare
  As the box of earth in the window there;
  Yet it bore, at last, the precious bloom
  Of a perfect soul in that narrow room;
  Pure as the snowy leaves that fold
  Over the flower’s heart of gold.


  I count that friendship little worth
    Which has not many things untold,
    Great longings that no words can hold,
  And passion-secrets waiting birth.

  Along the slender wires of speech
    Some message from the heart is sent;
    But who can tell the whole that’s meant? 
  Our dearest thoughts are out of reach.

  I have not seen thee, though mine eyes
    Hold now the image of thy face;
    In vain, through form, I strive to trace
  The soul I love:  that deeper lies.

Project Gutenberg
The Poems of Henry Van Dyke from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.