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Echoes from Home. a Collection of Songs, Ballads, and Other Home Poetry
Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2017
Echoes from Home: A Collection of of Songs, Ballads, and Other Home Poetry ...
Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2017
ain countree Allan Cunningham angels BARBARA FRIETCHIE Bayard Taylor beauty Bingen blessed blest bliss bonnie bosom brave breath bright brother brow child cottage COTTER'S SATURDAT COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT crown dear dearer doth Douglas dreams earth Ebenezer Elliot Erin go Bragh eyes fain fair father father's knee Felicia Hemans fireside flag flowers frae Gerald Massey glad glory hame hand happy hath hear hear my song heart heaven hill holy homes of England hope Immanuel's land John Anderson leal life's light look Lord meet morn mother's ne'er nest never o'er old arm-chair old oaken bucket peace pilgrim rapture Rhine river round SATURDAT NIGHT shining shore sic bands sigh silent sing skies sleep smile song sorrow soul sound splendor stars storm sweet tears thee thine Thomas Campbell thou thoughts tree Twas wandering weary wee thing wife wild winds
Seite 48 - The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed ; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Seite 40 - Quick as it fell, from the broken staff, Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf: She leaned far out on the window-sill, And shook it forth with a royal will. "Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag," she said. . A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, Over the face of the leader came; The nobler nature within him stirred To life at that woman's deed and word: "Who touches a hair of yon gray head Dies like a dog! March on!
Seite 130 - The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well. That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a treasure, For often at noon, when returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing, And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell ; Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well — The old oaken...
Seite 76 - Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days: There, ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere...
Seite 31 - Ye Mariners of England That guard our native seas, Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe, And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do' blow ; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Seite 76 - Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme: How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; How He, who bore in heaven the second name, Had not on earth whereon to lay His head; How his first followers and servants sped — The precepts sage they wrote to many a land; How he, who, lone in Patmos banished, Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand, And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command. Then kneeling down to Heaven's eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays: Hope "...
Seite 163 - Oft, in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me ; The smiles, the tears Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken ; The eyes that shone, Now dimmed and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken ! Thus, in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain hath bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me.
Seite 218 - Renew my will from day to day, Blend it with thine, and take away All that now makes it hard to say, Thy will be done.
Seite 58 - MINE be a cot beside the hill ; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near. The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch, Shall twitter from her clay-built nest; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal, a welcome guest.
Seite 49 - Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free. The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam; And the rocking pines of the forest roared — This was their welcome home.