English Songs: And Other Small Poems

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E. Moxon, 1846 - 284 Seiten
 

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Seite 73 - THE SEA. THE Sea ! the Sea ! the open Sea ! The blue, the fresh, the ever free ! Without a mark, without a bound, It runneth the earth's wide regions 'round ; It plays with the clouds ; it mocks the skies ; Or like a cradled creature lies.
Seite 74 - And a mother she was, and is, to me ; For I was born on the open sea ! The waves were white, and red the morn, In the noisy hour when I was born ; And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled...
Seite 126 - And loveth the wood's deep gloom ; And with eyes like the shine of the moonstone cold She awaiteth her ghastly groom...
Seite 96 - Outflying the blast and the driving rain, The petrel telleth her tale— in vain; For the mariner curseth the warning bird Which bringeth him news of the storm unheard!
Seite 171 - He'll seek the eagle, though he run Into his chamber near the sun. Never was there brute or bird, Whom the woods or mountains heard, That could force a fear or care From him, — the Arab of the air!
Seite 22 - DAY dawned: — within a curtained room, Filled to faintness with perfume, A lady lay at point of doom. Day closed; — a child had seen the light; But, for the lady fair and bright, She rested in undreaming night. Spring rose; the lady's grave was green; And near it, oftentimes, was seen A gentle boy with thoughtful mien.
Seite 208 - Touch us gently, Time ! Let us glide adown thy stream Gently, — as we sometimes glide Through a quiet dream ! Humble voyagers are We, Husband, wife, and children three — (One is lost, — an angel, fled To the azure overhead ! ) Touch us gently, Time! We've not proud nor soaring wings : Our ambition, our content Lies in simple things. Humble voyagers are We, O'er Life's dim unsounded sea, Seeking only some calm clime : — Touch us gently, gentle Time ! EBENEZER ELLIOTT.
Seite 161 - round his straining throat Grace and shifting beauty float ! Sinewy strength is in his reins, And the red blood gallops through his veins; Richer, redder, never ran Through the boasting heart of man. He can trace his lineage higher Than the Bourbon dare aspire, — Douglas, Guzman, or the Guelph, Or O'Brien's blood itself!
Seite 88 - The VINE, boys, the VINE ! The mother of mighty Wine. A roamer is she O'er wall and tree, And sometimes very good company. Drink ! — Who drinks To her who blusheth and never thinks ? Ah ! who is this maid of thine ? The GRAPE, boys, the GRAPE!
Seite 128 - And there was mounting in hot haste : the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war.

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