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ALICE CARY angels beauty bells beneath Bingen bird blessed bowers breast breath bright brow burn cold dark dead dear death Douglas dream earth eyes fair father fear feet fire flowers forever glory golden grave HALLOWEEN hand hath hear heart hills hope hour Inchcape Inchcape Rock John Anderson life's light live lonely look LYCIDAS MAUD MULLER Minnehaha moon morn mother mourn ne'er nectarian never Nevermore night o'er owre pale pray prayer Quoth the raven rest Ring rocks rose round Rule Britannia shade shine shore sigh silent SIR JOHN MOORE SKELETON IN ARMOR sleep smile snow song sorrow soul spirit stars stood summer sweet T. B. ALDRICH tears tell thee thine thou art thou hast thought toil tree Twas voice wake wandering waves weary weep Whyles wild wind young youth
Seite 151 - THE DAY IS DONE. THE day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist : A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
Seite 68 - Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme : How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed ; How He who bore in heaven the second name Had not on earth whereon to lay his head : How his first followers and servants sped ; The precepts sage they wrote to many a land ; How he who, lone in Patmos banished, Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand; And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command. Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King The saint, the father, and the husband prays : Hope "...
Seite 66 - The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave; Weel-pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave. O happy love! where love like this is found! O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare! I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare— 'If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath...
Seite 128 - Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee— by these angels he hath sent thee Respite— respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!
Seite 130 - And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore!
Seite 318 - Last night, the moon had a golden ring, And to-night no moon we see !" The Skipper, he blew a whiff from his pipe, And a scornful laugh laughed he.
Seite 9 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please ; How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene ; How often have I paused on every charm, — The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm, The never-failing brook, the busy mill, The decent church that topped the neighboring hill, The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made...
Seite 67 - They chant their artless notes in simple guise; They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim : Perhaps ' Dundee's ' wild warbling measures rise, Or plaintive *• Martyrs...
Seite 88 - Guid faith he mauna fa' that! For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that, The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher rank than a" that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that; That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a
Seite 211 - For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their blood ; If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, Or any air of music touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze, By the sweet power of music.