Illustrated Poems

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Carey and Hart, 1849 - 408 ページ
 

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228 ページ - Ye say their cone-like cabins, That clustered o'er the vale, Have fled away like withered leaves Before the autumn gale, But their memory liveth on your hills, Their baptism on your shore, Your everlasting rivers speak Their dialect of yore.
96 ページ - twas given, A golden harp to buy, Such as the white-robed choir attune To deathless minstrelsy. Lost ! lost ! lost ! I feel all search is vain ; That gem of countless cost Can ne'er be mine again.
135 ページ - O'er the whirlpool ripens the rind of gold; The sea-snatched isle is the home of men, And mountains exult where the wave hath been. But why do ye plant 'neath the billows dark The wrecking reef for the gallant bark ? There are snares enough on the tented field, 'Mid the...
149 ページ - DEEP Solitude I sought. There was a dell Where woven shades shut out the eye of day, While towering near the rugged mountains made Dark background 'gainst the sky. Thither I went, And bade my spirit taste that lonely fount For which it long had thirsted 'mid the strife And fever of the world.
312 ページ - Conceits are not always unnatural, as all know, who have watched the language of full and overflowing tenderness. -DEATH OF AN INFANT. ' Death found strange beauty on that cherub brow, And dashed it out. There was a tint of rose On cheek and lip ; he touched the veins with ice, And the rose faded. — Forth from those blue eyes There spake a wishful tenderness, — a doubt Whether to grieve or sleep, which Innocence Alone can wear.
279 ページ - MEEK dwellers mid yon terror-stricken cliffs ! With brows so pure, and incense-breathing lips, Whence are ye ?— Did some white-winged messenger On Mercy's missions trust your timid germ To the cold cradle of eternal snows ? Or, breathing on the callous icicles, Bid them with tear-drops nurse ye...
79 ページ - She rides the surge no more. Toll for the master bold, The high-souled and the brave, Who ruled her like a thing of life Amid the crested wave ! Toll for the hardy crew, Sons of the storm and blast, Who long the tyrant ocean dared ; But it vanquished them at last. Toll for the man of God, Whose hallowed voice of prayer...
100 ページ - Nought she spied Save wide, dark waters, and a frowning sky, Nor found her weary foot a place of rest. So, with a leaf of olive in her mouth, Sole fruit of her drear voyage, which, perchance, Upon some wrecking billow floated by, With drooping wing the peaceful ark she sought. The righteous man that wandering dove received, And to her mate restored, who, with sad moans, Had wondered at her absence.
98 ページ - Spring is here !" Strik'st thou not too bold a strain ? Winds are piping o'er the plain ; Clouds are sweeping o'er the sky With a black and threatening eye ; Urchins, by the frozen rill, Wrap their mantles closer still ; Yon poor man, with doublet old, Doth he shiver at the cold ? Hath he not a nose of blue ? Tell me, birdling, tell me true.
298 ページ - Quick at that name a cloud of woe Pass'd o'er the monarch's brow; Touched was that bleeding chord of love, To which the mightiest bow. Again swept back the tide of years, Again his first-born moved, — The fair, the graceful, the sublime, The erring, yet beloved. And ever, cherished by his side, One chosen friend was near, To share in boyhood's ardent sport, Or youth's untam'd career.

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