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arms beauty bird blood blue born breath bright calm child clouds cold comes dark dawn dead death deep dost doth dream earth eyes fair fame fear flowers follow gentle give gold grave hand happy hath head hear heart Heaven hope king land laugh leave lies light live look lost merry morning mother never night noble o'er once pain pale pleasure poet poor pride rain rest rich rose round Save scorn seasons seek shine sigh sing skies sleep smile soft song soul sound Spirit spring stars stormy stream strength strong summer sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou thoughts true truth turn unto voice wealth wild wind wine winter young youth
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 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!