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 Green for the cool, sweet gardens Which stretch about the house, And the delicate new frondage The winds of spring arouse, And red for the wine which a man may drink With his fellows in carouse.

Blue and green for the comfort Of tired hearts and eyes, And red for that sudden hour which comes With danger and great surprise, And white for the honour of God's throne When the dead shall all arise.

Gold for the cope and chalice, For kingly pomp and pride, And red for the feathers men wear in their caps When they win a war or a bride, And red for the robe which they dressed God in On the bitter day He died

THE WORLD'S MISER

I

A miser with an eager face Sees that each roseleaf is in place.

He keeps beneath strong bolts and bars The piercing beauty of the stars.

The colours of the dying day He hoards as treasure—well He may!—