Charles Kingsley

Feast of John Vianney, Curè d'Ars, 1859 Continuing a short series of verse on Christ: From Thee all skill and read more

Feast of John Vianney, Curè d'Ars, 1859 Continuing a short series of verse on Christ: From Thee all skill and science flow, All pity, care and love, All calm and courage, faith and hope; O pour them from above. And part them, Lord, to each and all, As each and all shall need, To rise like incense, each to Thee, In noble thought and deed. And hasten, Lord, that perfect day When pain and death shall cease, And Thy just rule shall fill the earth With health and light and peace.

For science is . . . like virtue, its own exceeding great reward.

For science is . . . like virtue, its own exceeding great reward.

Tho' we earn our bread, Tom,
By the dirty pen,
What we can we will be,
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Tho' we earn our bread, Tom,
By the dirty pen,
What we can we will be,
Honest Englishmen.
Do the work that's nearest
Though it's dull at whiles,
Helping, when we meet them,
Lame dogs over stiles.

Oh! that we two were Maying
Down the stream of the soft spring breeze;
Like children with read more

Oh! that we two were Maying
Down the stream of the soft spring breeze;
Like children with violets playing,
In the shade of the whispering trees.

"O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle read more

"O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
Across the sands o' Dee;"
The western wind was wild and dank wi' foam
And all alone went she.