Poetical Remains

Front Cover
Clark, Austin, 1852 - 248 pages
 

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Page 126 - O Lord my God, thou art very great ; thou art clothed with honour and majesty. Who coverest thyself with light as with a garment: who stretchest out the heavens like a curtain...
Page 107 - WHEN I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.
Page 48 - So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity, That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, And, in clear dream, and solemn vision, Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear...
Page 168 - ... There, beings pure as Heaven's own air, Their hopes, their joys together share; While hovering angels touch the string, And seraphs spread the sheltering wing. There cloudless days and brilliant nights, Illumed by Heaven's refulgent lights; There seasons, years, unnoticed roll, And unregretted by the soul. Thou little sparkling star of even, Thou gem upon an azure Heaven, How swiftly will I soar to thee, When this imprisoned soul is free.
Page 144 - And Abraham gat up early in the morning to the place where he stood before the LORD : and he looked toward Sodom and Gomorrah, and toward all the land of the plain, and beheld, and, lo, the smoke of the country went up as the smoke of a furnace.
Page 189 - O thou great Source of joy supreme ! Whose arm alone can save, — Dispel the darkness that surrounds The entrance to the grave.
Page 27 - Her tender solicitude," writes Mrs. Davidson, " endeared her to me beyond any other earthly thing ; although under the roof of a beloved and affectionate daughter, and having constantly with me an experienced and judicious nurse, yet the soft and gentle voice of my little darling was more than medicine to my worn-out frame. If her delicate hand smoothed my pillow, it was soft to my aching temples, and her sweet smile would cheer me in the lowest depths of despondency. She would draw for me — read...
Page 38 - We cannot help thinking that these moments of intense poetical exaltation sometimes approached to delirium, for we are told by her mother that "the image of her departed sister Lucretia mingled in all her aspirations; the holy elevation of Lucretia's character had taken deep hold of her imagination, and in her moments of enthusiasm she felt that she held close and intimate communion with her beatified spirit.
Page 176 - There is a something which I dread, It is a dark, a fearful thing ; It steals along with withering tread, Or sweeps on wild destruction's wing. That thought comes o'er me in the hour Of grief, of sickness, or of sadness ; 'Tis not the dread of death — 'tis more, It is the dread of madness.
Page 72 - there is enough of originality, enough of aspiration, enough of conscious energy, enough of growing power to warrant any expectations, however sanguine, which the patrons and the friends, and parents of the deceased could have formed.

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