Round Burns' Grave: The Paeans and Dirges of Many Bards

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A. Gardner, 1891 - 316 pages

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Page 42 - Through busiest street and loneliest glen Are felt the flashes of his pen ; He rules 'mid winter snows, and when Bees fill their hives ; Deep in the general heart of men His power survives.
Page 42 - But why to Him confine the prayer, When kindred thoughts and yearnings bear On the frail heart the purest share With all that live ? — The best of what we do and are, Just God, forgive 1 IV TO THE SONS OF BURNS AFTER VISITING THE GRAVE OF THEI FATHER 1803.
Page 39 - God scatters love on every side Freely among his children all, And always hearts are lying open wide, Wherein some grains may fall. There is no wind but soweth seeds Of a more true and open life, Which burst, unlocked for, into highsouled deeds, With wayside beauty rife.
Page 7 - Doon's low trees, And pastoral Nith, and wooded Ayr, And round thy sepulchres, Dumfries ! The poet's tomb is there.
Page 4 - And his that music, to whose tone The common pulse of man keeps time, In cot or castle's mirth or moan, In cold or sunny clime. And who hath heard his song, nor knelt Before its spell with willing knee, And listened, and believed, and felt The poet's mastery O'er the mind's sea, in calm and storm, O'er the heart's sunshine and its showers, O'er Passion's moments, bright and warm, O'er reason's dark, cold hours; On fields where brave men "die or do," In halls where rings the banquet's mirth, Where...
Page 3 - Yet read the names that know not death ; Few nobler ones than Burns are there; And few have won a greener wreath Than that which binds his hair.
Page 34 - I saw through all familiar things The romance underlying; The joys and griefs that plume the wings Of Fancy skyward flying.
Page 36 - ... the sweet refrain Of pure and healthful feeling, It died upon the eye and ear, No inward answer gaining; No heart had I to see or hear The discord and the staining. Let those who never erred forget His worth, in vain bewailings; 90 Sweet Soul of Song!
Page 40 - Whose fragrance fills the earth. Within the hearts of all men lie These promises of wider bliss, Which blossom into hopes that cannot die, In sunny hours like this. All that hath been majestical In life or death, since time began, Is native in the simple heart of all, The angel heart of man. And thus, among the untaught poor, Great deeds and feelings find a home, That cast in shadow all the golden lore Of classic Greece and Rome.
Page 33 - The sky with sun and clouds at play, And flowers with breezes blowing. I hear the blackbird in the corn, The locust in the haying ; And, like the fabled hunter's horn, Old tunes my heart is playing. How oft that day, with fond delay, I sought the maple's shadow, And sang with Burns the hours away, Forgetful of the meadow...

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