



Produced by Suzanne Shell, Emmy and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)










A FEW MORE VERSES.

BY SUSAN COOLIDGE.

[Illustration]




    UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME.
    ———
    VERSES.

    BY SUSAN COOLIDGE.

    PRICE, $1.00.

    ROBERTS BROTHERS,
    PUBLISHERS.




A FEW MORE VERSES.

    BY SUSAN COOLIDGE,
    AUTHOR OF “VERSES.”


    BOSTON
    LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
    1907




    _Copyright, 1889_,
    BY ROBERTS BROTHERS.

    Printers
    S. J. PARKHILL & CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.


   _GIVING to all, thou gavest as well to me.
    A myriad thirsty shores await the tide:
    They drink and drink, and will not be denied;
    But not a drop less full the brimming Sea._

   _One tiny shell among the kelp and weed,
    One sand-grain where the beaches stretch away,—
    How shall the tide regard them? Yet each day
    It comes, and fills and satisfies their need._

   _What can the singing sands give to the Sea?
    What the dumb shell, though inly it rejoice?
    Only the echo of its own strong voice;—
    And this is all that here I bring to thee._




_A BENEDICTION._


   _GOD give thee, love, thy heart’s desire!
      What better can I pray?
    For though love falter not, nor tire,
      And stand on guard all day,
    How little can it know or do,
      How little can it say!_

   _How hard it strives, and how in vain,
      By hope and fear misled,
    To make the pathway soft and plain
      For the dear feet to tread,
    To shield from sun-beat and from rain
      The one beloved head!_

   _Its wisdom is made foolishness;
      Its best intent goes wrong;
    It curses where it fain would bless,
      Is weak instead of strong,—
    Marring with sad, discordant sighs
      The joyance of its song._

   _I do not dare to bless or ban,—
      I am too blind to see,—
    But this one little prayer I can
      Put up to God for thee,
    Because I know what fair, pure things
      Thy inmost wishes be;_

   _That what thy heart desires the most
      Is what he loves to grant,—
    The love that counteth not its cost
      If any crave or want;
    The presence of the Holy Ghost,
      The soul’s inhabitant;_

  