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Adam appears arms bear Behold beneath boast breath bright cause close dark dear death deep delight desire divine dream earth ease eyes face fair faith fall fear feel field fire flowers force fruit give glory grace hand happy hast head hear heard heart heaven hope hour human kind king land leaves length less light live Lord lost means mind nature never night o'er once pain peace perhaps pleasure praise prove receive rest rise scene seek shine side sight skies smile song soon soul sound speak spirit stand stream sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought thousand true truth turn vain verse virtue voice waste wind wish worth youth
Strana 127 - Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take, The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head.
Strana 41 - I am monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 0 Solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face ? Better dwell in the midst of alarms Than reign in this horrible place.
Strana 120 - So shall my walk be close with God, Calm and serene my frame ; So purer light shall mark the road That leads me to the Lamb.
Strana 56 - Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free, They touch our country and their shackles fall.
Strana 151 - That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth : But higher far my proud pretensions rise ; The son of parents passed into the skies.
Strana 156 - Thy indistinct expressions seem Like language utter'd in a dream ; Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme, My Mary! Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary ! For, could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!
Strana 41 - Ye winds that have made me your sport. Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more : My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see.
Strana 126 - The hand that gave it, still supplies The gracious light and heat ; His truths upon the nations rise, They rise, but never set. 4 Let everlasting thanks be thine, For such a bright display, As makes a world of darkness shine With beams of heavenly day.
Strana 151 - Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours, When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, The violet, the pink, and jessamine, I pricked them into paper with a pin (And thou wast happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile) ; Could those few pleasant days again appear, Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here?