The Twentieth Century Cook Book Author:Various DEDICATION I HAVE no garland rare and gay My diligence to prove, But, pausing, gather by the way Some little flowers shell love. She will not turn from what I bring, For all her hand be full Shell cherish for her garlanding These simple flowers I pull two roses on a tree, One blown in beautys pride, The other budding quietly, Drooping aside. I s... more »melled the one I plucked the other. I knew two sisters, maidens fair, One courted, known, admired The other, 0, a beauty rare, Lowly, retired. I praised the one I loved the other. THE SILENT HEART T is not wooing when the silent heart 1 Steals pleasure from the fiagrancies that cling To natures rare as thine it doth not bring More than a reverent homage, where no art Or urgency or passion hath a part, Or rude, unquelled desire. Unconquering, It fGe1s no victors exultation spring Unconquered, hath not any wound or smart Fear thou no wooer Nay, withhold the keys That give admittance to the inmost home Of thy perpetual presence but let me find An entrance to those courts and terraces Where by thy favour 1 at will may roam, Free of the outer garden of thy mind. THE ROAD T HIS common road, with hedges high Confined on either hand, Will surely enter by-and-by Some large, luxuriant land. The many wayfarers on foot Have toiled from stage to s t y e , And others roll along the route With easy equipage. All seek, methinks, that wide domain Wherron my thoughts are set Press onward Leave the dusty plain Hasten Tis farther yet And in the end shall great repose Descend upon my soul, When, at the eager journeys close, I reach the sudden goal. I 5 Content, enlargement, fragrance, ease, Joy in the evenings cool, The subtle silence in the trees, The gleam upon the pool . . . Dreamer In vain thou hastenest That glorious land resign Take by the road thy joy, thy rest The road, the road is thine. H ERES the rascal home again, Heavy eye, forgetful brain, Feeble finger, leaden foot, Now may all in bed be put. Drowsy, dreamy, snug and still, Let the rascal sleep his fill Limp, unfeeling, blind, and dumb, Heed him not till rousing come.« less