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Seite 41 - Not as a child shall we again behold her; For when with raptures wild In our embraces we again enfold her, She will not be a child; But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion, Clothed with celestial grace ; And beautiful with all the soul's expansion Shall we behold her face. And though at times impetuous with emotion And anguish long suppressed, The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean, That cannot be at rest, — We will be patient, and assuage the feeling We may not wholly stay ; By silence...
Seite 116 - ... Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside. Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale, Down which she so often has tripped with her pail ; ; And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's, The one only dwelling on earth that she loves. She looks, and her heart is in heaven : but they fade, The mist and the river, the hill and the shade : The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise, And the colours have all passed away...
Seite 126 - I HEARD a voice from heaven, saying unto me, Write, From henceforth blessed are the dead which die in the Lord : even so saith the Spirit ; for they rest from their labours.
Seite 106 - I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the brimming river; For men may come and men may go, But I go on for ever.
Seite 9 - Who did not love her better : — in her home, A thousand leagues from his, — her native home, She dwelt, begirt with growing Infancy, Daughters and sons of Beauty, — but behold ! Upon her face there was the tint of grief, The settled shadow of an inward strife, And an unquiet drooping of the eye As if its lid were charged with unshed tears.
Seite 173 - As slow our ship her foamy track Against the wind was cleaving, Her trembling pennant still look'd back To that dear isle 'twas leaving. So loth we part from all we love, From all the links that bind us ; So turn our hearts, as on we rove, To those we've left behind us...
Seite 65 - The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
Seite 201 - To my own native plants and my flowerets so fair ; To the cool grassy shade, and the rivulet bright, Which reflects the pale moon on its bosom of light. Again would I view the old mansion so dear, Where I sported a babe, without sorrow or fear ; I would leave this great city so brilliant and gay, For a peep at my home on this fine summer day.
Seite 57 - That he shouts with his sister at play! 0 well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But 0 for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!