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beauty beneath bird bless blue born bower brave breath bright brow changed clouds cold dark dear death delight dreams earth edition face faded fame feeling field flowers friends gaze give given gone grace grave green half Hall hand happy hath head heard heart heaven hope hour lady land learned leaves life's light linger listened live look manners meet memory mind morn never night o'er once passed poet's pride proud pure rose round scene seen shade sing sleep smile song speeches spirit spring star story summer sweet tears tell thee There's things thou thought thousand tree true twas voice wandering warm waters wave wild winds wings young
Page 19 - But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be.
Page 35 - GREEN be the turf above thee, Friend of my better days ! None knew thee but to love thee, Nor named thee but to praise.
Page 28 - Praise to the man ! a nation stood Beside his coffin with wet eyes, Her brave, her beautiful, her good, As when a loved one dies. And still, as on his funeral day, Men stand his cold earth-coucluaround, With the mute homage that we pay To consecrated ground.
Page 82 - They love their land, because it is their own, And scorn to give aught other reason why ; Would shake hands with a king upon his throne, And think it kindness to his majesty ; A stubborn race, fearing and flattering none.
Page 121 - There's a bower of roses by BENDEMEER'S ' stream, And the nightingale sings round it all the day long ; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song.
Page 53 - Who will believe that, with a smile whose blessing Would, like the Patriarch's, soothe a dying hour, With voice as low, as gentle, and caressing, As e'er won maiden's lip in moonlit bower; With look like patient Job's eschewing evil; With motions graceful as a bird's in air ; Thou art, in sober truth, the veriest devil...
Page 37 - Tis with a nameless feeling of regret We gaze upon them as they melt away, And fondly would we bid them linger yet, But Hope is round us with her angel lay, Hailing afar some happier moonlight hour; Dear are her whispers still, though lost their early power.
Page 16 - Then pressed that monarch's throne — a king; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird. At midnight, in the forest shades, Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, True as the steel of their tried blades, Heroes in heart and hand. There had the Persian's...