Lillian, and Other Poems

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Redfield, 1852 - 290 pages

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Page 133 - And nothings for Sylvanus Urban. He did not think all mischief fair, Although he had a knack of joking; He did not make himself a bear, Although he had a taste for smoking. And when religious sects ran mad He held, in spite of all his learning, That if a man's belief is bad It will not be improved by burning.
Page 142 - She smiled on many just for fun ; I knew that there was nothing in it ; I was the first — the only — one Her heart had thought of for a minute : I knew it, for she told me so In phrase which was divinely moulded. She wrote a charming hand, and oh How sweetly all her notes were folded I Our love was like most other loves — A little glow, a little shiver, A rosebud and a pair of gloves, And
Page 142 - 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. We parted ; months and years...
Page 264 - Go, call him by his name; No fitter hand may crave To light the flame of a soldier's fame On the turf of a soldier's grave!
Page 134 - Alack the change! in vain I look For haunts in which my boyhood trifled,— The level lawn, the trickling brook, The trees I climbed, the beds I rifled...
Page 54 - Hastings bend the knee, Till those bewitching lips of thine Will bid me rise in bliss from mine, Smile, Lady, smile! for who would win A loveless throne through guilt and sin ? Or who would reign o'er vale and hill, If woman's heart were rebel still...
Page 141 - Grew lovelier from her pencil's shading; She botanized ; I envied each Young blossom in her boudoir fading; She warbled Handel ; it was grand — She made the Catalan!
Page 131 - Had turned our parish topsy-turvy, When Darnel Park was Darnel Waste, And roads as little known as scurvy, The man who lost his way, between St. Mary's Hill and Sandy Thicket, Was always shown across the green, And guided to the Parson's wicket. Back flew the bolt of lissom lath; Fair Margaret, in her tidy kirtle, Led the lorn traveller up the path, Through...
Page 139 - There, when the sounds of flute and fiddle Gave signal sweet in that old hall Of hands across and down the middle, Hers was the subtlest spell by far Of all that...
Page 54 - As he took forth a bait from his iron box. It was a bundle of beautiful things, A peacock's tail, and a butterfly's wings, A scarlet slipper, an auburn curl, A mantle of silk, and a bracelet of pearl, And a packet of letters, from whose sweet fold Such a stream of delicate odours rolled, That the abbot fell on his face, and fainted, And deemed his spirit was half-way sainted.

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