Oh, father's gone to market-town, he was up before the day, And Jamie's after robins, and the man is making hay, And whistling down the hollow goes the boy that minds the mill, While mother from the kitchen door is… — Richard Watson Gilder Copy Share Image
What babe new born is this that in a manger cries? Near on her lowly bed his happy mother lies. Oh, see the air is shaken with white and heavenly wings-- This is the Lord of all the earth, this is the King of Kings. — Richard Watson Gilder Copy Share
Fra Lippo, we have learned from thee A lesson of humanity: To every mother's heart forlorn, In every house the Christ is born. — Richard Watson Gilder Copy Share Image
I am the laughter of the new-born child On whose soft-breathing sleep an angel smiled. — Richard Watson Gilder Copy Share Image
In Heaven's happy bowers There blossom two flowers, One with fiery glow And one as white as snow; While lo! before them stands, With… — Richard Watson Gilder Copy Share Image
Since ancient Time began, Ever on some great soul God laid an infinite burden-- The weight of all this world, the hopes of man,… — Richard Watson Gilder Copy Share Image
Ye living soldiers of the mighty war, Once more from roaring cannon and the drums And bugles blown at morn, the summons comes; Forget… — Richard Watson Gilder Copy Share Image
Against the darkness outer God's light his likeness takes, And he from the mighty doubter The great believer makes. — Richard Watson Gilder Copy Share Image
Oh, father's gone to market-town, he was up before the day, And Jamie's after robins, and the man is making hay, And whistling down… — Richard Watson Gilder Copy Share Image
In the embers shining bright A garden grows for thy delight, With roses yellow, red, and white. But, O my child, beware, beware! Touch… — Richard Watson Gilder Copy Share Image
A man not perfect, but of heart so high, of such heroic rage, That even his hopes became a part of earth's eternal heritage. — Richard Watson Gilder Copy Share Image
My name may have buoyancy enough to float upon the sea of time. — Richard Watson Gilder Copy Share Image
What if thou be saint or sinner, Crooked gray-beard, straight beginner,-- Empty paunch, or jolly dinner, When Death thee shall call. All like are… — Richard Watson Gilder Copy Share Image
