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arms beauty beneath bird bloom blue breath bright brow cheeks close cloud cold dance dark dead dear death deep double dream earth eyes face fair fairy fall fancy fear fell flowers gaze gentle give gloom gold golden gone green grief grow hair hand hath head heart hollow hope human hung Kilmansegg leaves light limbs lips living looks mind Miss moon morn mortal never night once pale pity poor pride rich rose round seem'd sense shade shadows shine sighs sing sleep smiles sometimes song soon sorrow soul sound spirit stands stream summer sweet tears tender thee There's thing thou thought trees true turn Twas voice wall warm waters wave weep Whilst wild wind wings young
Page 41 - One more Unfortunate Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Gone to her death ! Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care ; Fashion'd so slenderly, Young, and so fair!
Page 47 - Work, work, work! From weary chime to chime ; Work, work, work, As prisoners work for crime : Band and gusset and seam, Seam and gusset and band, Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, As well as the weary hand.
Page 47 - Work — work — work ! In the dull December light, And work — work — work! When the weather is warm and bright — While underneath the eaves The brooding swallows cling, As if to show me their sunny backs And twit me with the Spring.
Page 45 - With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread — Stitch — stitch — stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, — Would that its tone could reach the Rich ! She sang this " Song of the Shirt !
Page 4 - ... ragged stick, And one with a heavy stone, One hurried gash with a hasty knife, — And then the deed was done : There was nothing lying at my foot But lifeless flesh and bone!
Page 344 - I SAW old Autumn in the misty morn Stand shadowless like Silence, listening To silence, for no lonely bird would sing Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn, Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn ; Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright With tangled gossamer that fell by night, Pearling his coronet of golden corn.
Page 44 - The rough river ran, Over the brink of it ! Picture it — think of it, Dissolute man ! Lave in it, drink of it Then, if you can ! Take her up tenderly. Lift her with care ! Fashioned so slenderly. Young, and so fair ! Ere her limbs, frigidly. Stiffen too rigidly. Decently, kindly, Smooth and compose them ; And...
Page 386 - THERE is a silence where hath been no sound, There is a silence where no sound may be, In the cold grave — under the deep, deep sea, Or in wide desert where no life is found, Which hath been mute, and still must sleep profound ; No voice is hushed — no life treads silently, But clouds and cloudy shadows wander free, That never spoke, over the idle ground : But in green ruins, in the desolate walls Of antique palaces, where Man hath been, Though the dun fox, or wild...