Noon, Volume 1, Issue 3

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W. S. Lord., 1900 - Poetry

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Page 52 - O run; prevent them with thy humble ode, And lay it lowly at his blessed feet; Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet And join thy voice unto the angel quire, From out his secret altar touched with hallowed fire. The Hymn It was the winter wild, While the Heaven-born Child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies...
Page 64 - As I in hoary winter's night Stood shivering in the snow, Surprised I was with sudden heat Which made my heart to glow; And lifting up a fearful eye To view what fire was near, A pretty babe all burning bright Did in the air appear; Who, scorched with excessive heat, Such floods of tears did shed, As though His floods should quench His flames, Which with His tears were bred : "Alas!
Page 68 - It came upon the midnight clear, That glorious song of old, From angels bending near the earth, To touch their harps of gold : "Peace on the earth, goodwill to men, From heaven's all-gracious King!
Page 54 - But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began : The winds, with wonder whist, Smoothly the waters kist Whispering new joys to the mild ocean — Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.
Page 55 - That the mighty Pan Was kindly come to live with them below; Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep.
Page 53 - And on her naked shame, Pollute with sinful blame, The saintly veil of maiden white to throw, Confounded that her Maker's eyes Should look so near upon her foul deformities.
Page 52 - Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Afford a present to the Infant God? Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, To welcome Him to this His new abode, Now while the Heaven, by the Sun's team untrod, Hath took no print of the approaching light, And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?
Page 56 - And speckled Vanity Will sicken soon and die, And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould, And Hell itself will pass away, And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.
Page 59 - And sullen Moloch, fled, Hath left in shadows dread His burning idol all of blackest hue; In vain with cymbals' ring They call the grisly king, In dismal dance about the furnace blue; The brutish gods of Nile as fast, Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste.
Page 56 - Ring out, ye crystal Spheres ! Once bless our human ears (If ye have power to touch our senses so...

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