The white rose of Chayleigh, Band 2;Band 36

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Seite 136 - Still I tried each fickle art, Importunate and vain ; And while his passion touch'd my heart, I triumph'd in his pain : ' Till, quite dejected with my scorn, He left me to my pride, And sought a solitude forlorn, In secret, where he died.'
Seite 159 - He that shuts Love out, in turn shall be Shut out from Love, and on her threshold lie Howling in outer darkness. Not for this Was common clay ta'en from the common earth, Moulded by God, and temper'd with the tears Of angels to the perfect shape of man.
Seite 136 - Each hour a mercenary crowd With richest proffers strove; Among the rest young Edwin bow'd, But never talk'd of love. ' In humblest, simplest habit clad, Nor wealth nor power had he; Wisdom and worth were all he had, But these were all to me.'
Seite 159 - Beauty only, (Beauty seen In all varieties of mould and mind,) And Knowledge for its beauty; or if Good, Good only for its beauty, seeing not" that " He that shuts Love out, in turn shall be Shut out from Love, and on her threshold lie Howling in outer darkness.
Seite 130 - They say he's dying all for love, but that can never be: They say his heart is breaking, mother—what is that to me? There's many a bolder lad 'ill woo me any summer day, And I'm to be Queen o
Seite 258 - Teach me, my God and King, In all things Thee to see; And what I do in anything, To do it as for Thee. * * * ' All may of Thee partake: Nothing can be so mean, Which with His tincture (for Thy sake) Will not grow bright and clean. * # * ' This is the famous stone That turneth all to gold: For that which God doth touch and own Cannot for less be told.
Seite 164 - Whosoever will be great among you, shall be your minister ; and whosoever of you will be the chiefest, shall be servant of all.
Seite 209 - ' A lake and a fairy boat To sail in the moonlight clear,— And merrily we would float From the dragons that watch us here! Thy gown should be snow-white silk, And strings of orient pearls, Like gossamers dipp'd in milk, Should twine with thy
Seite 88 - Tis fancy wakes some idle thought, To gild the ruin she has wrought; For, like the bat of Indian brakes, Her pinions fan the wound she makes, And soothing thus the dreamer's pain, She drinks his life-blood from the vein.
Seite 88 - More wouldst thou know—yon tower survey, Yon couch unpress'd since parting day, Yon untrimm'd lamp, whose yellow gleam Is mingling with the cold moonbeam, And yon thin form!—the hectic red On his pale cheek unequal spread; The head reclin'd, the loosen'd hair, The limbs relax'd, the mournful air.— See, he looks

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