The Works of Mrs. Hemans, with a Memoir by Her Sister, and an Essay on Her Genius by Mrs. Sigourney ...

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Lea and Blanchard, 1840

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Seite 168 - Speak, father!' once again he cried, 'If I may yet be gone!' And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on.
Seite 146 - Give back the lost and lovely ! — those for whom The place was kept at board and hearth so long ! The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom, And the vain yearning woke 'midst festal song ! Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown — But all is not thine own.
Seite 169 - And shouted but once more aloud, "My Father! must I stay?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way. They...
Seite 78 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
Seite 171 - With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings.
Seite 188 - LEAVES have their time to fall. And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death.
Seite 194 - CHILD, amidst the flowers at play, While the red light fades away; Mother, with thine earnest eye Ever following silently ; Father, by the breeze of eve Called thy harvest-work to leave ; Pray! — ere yet the dark hours be, Lift the heart and bend the knee!
Seite 187 - Her lot is on you! — silent tears to weep, And patient smiles to wear through suffering's hour, And sumless riches, from affection's deep, To pour on broken reeds— a wasted shower! And to make idols, and to find them clay, And to bewail that worship — therefore pray!
Seite 340 - OH ! how could Fancy crown with thee, In ancient days, the god of wine, And bid thee at the banquet be, Companion of the vine ? Thy home, wild plant, is where each sound Of revelry hath long been o'er ; Where song's full notes once peal'd around, But now are heard no more.
Seite 338 - No more of talk where God or angel guest With man, as with his friend, familiar used To sit indulgent, and with him partake Rural repast...

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