English songs, and other small poems, by Barry Cornwall

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Seite ix - HERE'S a health to ane I lo'e dear! Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear ! Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet, And soft as their parting tear — Jessy ! Although thou maun never be mine, Although even hope is denied, 'Tis sweeter for thee despairing, Than aught in the world beside — Jessy ! I mourn through the gay, gaudy day, As, hopeless, I muse on thy charms, But welcome the dream o...
Seite 2 - And backward flew to her billowy breast, Like a bird that seeketh its mother's nest; And a mother she was, and is, to me; For I was born on the open sea!
Seite 5 - Hurrah ! for the coal-black wine ! There came to him many a Maiden, Whose eyes had forgot to shine ; And Widows, with grief o'erladen, For a draught of his sleepy wine. Hurrah ! for the coal-black wine!
Seite 31 - A THOUSAND miles from land are we, Tossing about on the roaring sea ; From billow to bounding billow cast, Like fleecy snow on the stormy blast : The sails are scattered abroad, like weeds, The strong masts shake, like quivering reeds, The mighty cables, and iron chains, The hull, which all earthly strength disdains, They strain and they crack, and hearts like stone Their natural hard proud strength disown. Up and down ! Up and down ! From...
Seite 65 - And loveth the wood's deep gloom ; And with eyes like the shine of the moonstone cold She awaiteth her ghastly groom ! Not a feather she moves, not a carol she sings, As she waits in her tree so...
Seite 55 - That have beauty but no perfume! Come, show us the rose, with a hundred dyes, The lily, that hath no spot; The violet, deep as your true love's eyes, and the little forget-me-not!
Seite 7 - Awake ! — Soft dews will soon arise From daisied mead, and thorny brake ; Then, Sweet, uncloud those eastern eyes, And like the tender morning break ! Awake...
Seite 2 - 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 215 - Smiling the shadows from yon purple hills, We pace this shore, — I and my brother here, Good Gerald. We arise with the shrill lark, And both unbind our brows from sullen dreams ; And then doth my dear Brother, who hath worn His cheek all pallid with perpetual thought, Enrich me with sweet words ; and...
Seite 117 - And the last of that great line Trod like one of a race divine! And yet, — he was but friend to one Who fed him at the set of sun By some...

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