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All's away—I am passing beams beautiful belfry bell bless bliss bloom breast breath bright brow bucket CHARLES SWAIN clouds cold comes content to die—but dark death decay deep doth e'en earth eternity fade fear feeling flowers gather the fragments gaze glory glowing Hark ye hath hear me tell heart heaven holy hope hour household Human watch kind to thy knitting-work leaves life's light lips live LONGFELLOW Look aloft Lord will provide MARY HOWITT mingled mistletoe mite morning Murillo ne'er Never give never mind nigh night numbers o'er Ocean old oaken bucket passing away—I prayer pride round SEVILLE shadow sigh silent skies smile song sorrow soul Speak gently spirit storm sunbeam sweet tears tempests There's thine things Thou art thou hast thought thy hand to-morrow trees trust Twas VIA LUCIS voice weary whisper wind YALE COLLEGE youth
Seite 108 - twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane— as I do here.
Seite 107 - Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they ? Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: not so thou; Unchangeable save to thy wild waves
Seite 40 - With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me ; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, " Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!
Seite 41 - Affectionate, a mother lost so long, 1 will obey, not willingly alone, But gladly, as the precept were her own : And, while that face renews my filial grief. Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, A momentary dream that thou art she.
Seite 65 - But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, And the yellow sunflower by the brook in autumn beauty stood, Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone from upland, glade, and glen, And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home ; When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light...
Seite 44 - My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth ; But higher far my proud pretensions rise — The son of parents passed into the skies.
Seite 74 - And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
Seite 85 - Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try : Prayer the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high.
Seite 75 - Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds Exhilarate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid nature. Mighty winds, That sweep the skirt of some far-spreading wood Of ancient growth, make music not unlike The dash of Ocean on his winding shore...