When I am weary, thronged with the cares of the vain day br That tease as harsh winds tease the unresting autumn boughs, br I still my mind at evening and put all else away br But the image of my Love, where all my hopes I house. br br The thoughts of her fall gently as the gentleness of snow. br That after storm makes smoothness in the ways that are rough; br White with a hush of beauty over my heart they grow br To the peace of which my heart can never hold enough.