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arms beauty better bird blue breath bright brow cheeks close clouds cold dark dead dear death deep door dream eyes face fair fairy fall fancy fear feel gaze give gone green grief grow hair hand hath head heart heaven hollow hope human keep kind lady land leaves light lips live look meet mind Miss moon morning mother never night once pale pity poor rose round shade shadows shine short sighs sing sleep sometimes soon sorrow soul stand stream summer sure sweet tears tell tender thee There's thing thou thought till trees true turn voice watch waters wave weep Whilst wild wind wings wish young
Page 159 - The swallows all have wing'd across the main ; But here the Autumn melancholy dwells, And sighs her tearful spells Amongst the sunless shadows of the plain. Alone, alone, Upon a mossy stone, She sits and reckons up the dead and gone, With the last leaves for a love-rosary...
Page 3 - We watched her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. " ' So silently we seemed to speak, So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers To eke her living out. " ' Our very hopes belied our fears ; Our fears our hopes belied ; We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died.
Page vii - Strong the earthy odor grows — I smell the mould above the rose ! Welcome life ! the spirit strives ! • Strength returns and hope revives; Cloudy fears and shapes forlorn Fly like shadows at the morn, — O'er the earth there comes a bloom ; Sunny light for sullen gloom, Warm perfume for vapor cold — I smell the rose above the mould ! April, 1845.
Page 102 - So, while I fondly imagined we were deceiving my relations, and flattered myself that I should outwit and incense them all — behold my hopes are to be crushed at once, by my aunt's consent and approbation — and I am myself the only dupe at last! — [Walking about in a heat.} But here, sir, here is the picture — Beverley's picture!
Page 148 - Twas papered o'er with studious themes, The tasks I wrote — my present dreams Will never soar so high ! My joys are wingless all and dead ; My dumps are made of more than lead ; My flights soon find a fall ; My fears prevail, my fancies droop, Joy never cometh with a hoop, And seldom with a call...
Page 210 - To his tuned spirit the wild heather-bells Ring Sabbath knells ; The jubilate of the soaring lark Is chant of clerk ; For choir, the thrush and the gregarious linnet ; The sod's a cushion for his pious want ; And, consecrated by the heav'n within it, The sky-blue pool, a font.
Page 147 - OH, when I was a tiny boy, My days and nights were full of joy, My mates were blithe and kind ! — No wonder that I sometimes sigh, And dash the teardrop from my eye, To cast a look behind ! A hoop was an eternal round Of pleasure. In those days I found A top a joyous thing ; — But now those past delights I drop, My head, alas ! is all my top, And careful thoughts the string ! My...
Page 7 - LOVE thy mother, little one ! Kiss and clasp her neck again, — Hereafter she may have a son Will kiss and clasp her neck in vain. Love thy mother, little one ! Gaze upon her living eyes, And mirror back her love for thee, — Hereafter thou mayst shudder sighs To meet them when they cannot see. Gaze upon her living eyes ! Press her lips the while they glow With love that they have often told, — Hereafter thou mayst press in woe, And kiss them till thine own are cold.
Page 228 - Perchance thou deem'st it were a thing To wear a crown, — to be a king ! And sleep on regal down ! Alas ! thou know'st not kingly cares ; Far happier is thy head that wears That hat without a crown...
Page 187 - 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.