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Page 121 - His sermon never said or showed That earth is foul, that heaven is gracious, Without refreshment on the road From Jerome or from Athanasius; And sure a righteous zeal inspired The hand and head that penned and planned them, For all who understood admired, And some who did not understand them.
Page 122 - I climbed, the beds I rifled: The church is larger than before; You reach it by a carriage entry; It holds three hundred people more, And pews are fitted up for gentry.
Page 129 - Little. Through sunny May, through sultry June, I loved her with a love eternal; I spoke her praises to the moon, I wrote them to the Sunday Journal.
Page 120 - re expected." Up rose the Reverend Doctor Brown, Up rose the Doctor's "winsome marrow;" The lady laid her knitting down, Her husband clasped his ponderous Barrow : Whate'er the stranger's caste or creed, Pundit or Papist, saint or sinner, He found a stable for his steed, And welcome for himself, and dinner.
Page 202 - Where are my friends? I am alone; No playmate shares my beaker: Some lie beneath the churchyard stone, And some — before the Speaker; And some compose a tragedy, And some compose a rondo; And some draw sword for Liberty, And some draw pleas for John Doe. Tom Mill was used to blacken eyes Without the fear of sessions; Charles Medlar loathed false quantities, As much as false professions; Now Mill ke'eps order in the land, A magistrate pedantic; And Medlar's feet repose unscanned Beneath the wide...
Page 182 - ... you For talking so much about Hock ; And her sister, who often amused you By raving of rebels and Rock ; And something which surely would answer, An heiress quite fresh from Bengal; — So though you were seldom a dancer, You'll dance, just for once, at our Ball. But out on the world ! — from the flowers It shuts out the sunshine of truth : It blights the green leaves in the bowers, It makes an old age of our youth ; And the flow of our feeling, once in it, Like a streamlet beginning to freeze,...
Page 176 - s sleepy while you are capricious, If he has not a musical " Oh ! " If he does not call Werther delicious, — My own Araminta, say " No ! " If he ever sets foot in the City Among the stockbrokers and Jews, If he has not a heart full of pity, If he don't stand six feet in his shoes, If his lips are not redder than roses, If his hands are not whiter than snow, If he has not the model of noses, — My own Araminta, say "No!
Page 114 - My mother's grave, my mother's grave ! Oh ! dreamless is her slumber there, And drowsily the banners wave O'er her that was so chaste and fair ; Yea ! love is dead, and memory faded ! But when the dew is on the brake, And silence sleeps on earth and sea, And mourners weep, and ghosts awake, Oh ! then she cometh back to me, In her cold beauty darkly shaded...
Page 147 - Whose shine with shower is ended : Like Colnbrook pavement, rather rough, Like trade, exposed to losses, And like a Highland plaid, — all stuff, And very full of crosses. I think the world, though dark it be, Has aye one rapturous pleasure...
Page 131 - Our love was like most other loves — A little glow, a little shiver, A rosebud and a pair of gloves, And " Fly Not Yet " upon the river ; Some jealousy of some one's heir, Some hopes of dying broken-hearted, A miniature, a lock of hair, The usual vows ; and then we parted.

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