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amid arms bear behold beneath bless blood breast busy cheerful child cold comes comfort dark dead dear death deed deep delight earth fair father fear feel fields fire flow gale gaze give glory grave hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven honest hope hour Jack Straw John Ball justice king labor land leaves light live look Lord midnight mind morning Nature never night o'er once passed peace Piers poor praise prayer pride remember rest rich rise round scene shore sigh silent slave sleep smile song soon sorrow soul sound spirit spread strong sweet tears tell thee thine thou thought throng toil traveller truth Tyler vengeance voice waves weary WESTBURY wild wind wretched young youth
Seite 249 - My hopes are with the Dead ; anon My place with them will be, And I with them shall travel on Through all Futurity ; Yet leaving here a name, I trust, That will not perish in the dust.
Seite 248 - Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old: My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day. With them I take delight in weal And seek relief in woe; And while I understand and feel How much to them I owe, My cheeks have often been bedew'd With tears of thoughtful gratitude.
Seite 191 - So serious should my youth appear among The thoughtless throng ; So would I seem amid the young and gay More grave than they ; That in my age as cheerful I might be As the green winter of the Holly Tree.
Seite 170 - William," the young man cried. ' ' And pleasures with youth pass away ; And yet you lament not the days that are gone ; Now tell me the reason, I pray.
Seite 190 - And should my youth, as youth is apt I know, Some harshness show, All vain asperities I day by day Would wear away, Till the smooth temper of my age should be Like the high leaves upon the Holly Tree.
Seite 200 - Resolved, their uses done. Not to the grave, not to the grave, my Soul, Follow thy friend beloved, The spirit is not there...
Seite 178 - I thee, thou busy, busy Bee. Thou art a miser, thou busy, busy Bee! Late and early at employ ; Still on thy golden stores intent, Thy summer in heaping and hoarding is spent What thy winter will never enjoy ; Wise lesson this for me, thou busy, busy Bee ! Little dost thou think, thou busy, busy Bee ! What is the end of thy toil.
Seite 192 - The unlabour'd boat falls rapidly along ; The solitary helmsman sits to guide, And sings an idle song. Now o'er the rocks that lay So silent late the shallow current roars ; Fast flow thy waters on their sea-ward way, Through wider-spreading shores.
Seite 144 - The unfeeling discipline of schools, In thought he loves to roam ; And tears will struggle in his eye While he remembers with a sigh The comforts of his home.