The Dream: And Other PoemsC.S. Francis & Company, 1845 - 260 strán (strany) |
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Allan Douglas art thou beauty bending beneath bitter bless breast breath breeze bright brow Charlemagne cheek cheer child cold COUNTESS OF CARLISLE COVENANTERS cowslips dark darkly dear death didst dost doth dream dwell earth echo Edinburgh Review eyes face faded faint fair fancy feel flowers fond fondly gaze gentle glad gleam glory glow grace grief hand happy happy days hath haunts heart Heaven holy hope hopes and fears hour laburnum life's light lips lonely look Love's mirth mother mournful murmuring neath o'er pain pale pass'd poem prayer proud rest round seem'd shadow sigh silence slumbering smile soft song SONNET sorrow soul sound spirit strange summer sunny sweet tears tender thee thine thou thought thy dream toil Twas vainly vex'd vision voice wake wandering watch wave weary weep wert wild wind young youth
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Strana 65 - But this is that which was spoken by the prophet Joel ; And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh : and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams: And on my servants and on my handmaidens I will pour out in those days of my Spirit; and they shall prophesy...
Strana 66 - 1 bel paese e '1 loco ov' io fui giunto Da duo begli occhi, che legato m' hanno: E benedetto il primo dolce affanno Ch...
Strana 67 - The poplars are fell'd: farewell to the shade, And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade; The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves, Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.
Strana 216 - The bleak wind whistles, snow-showers, far and near, Drift without echo to the whitening ground ; Autumn hath passed away, and, cold and drear, Winter stalks on, with frozen mantle bound. Yet still that prayer ascends : — • Oh ! laughingly My little brothers round the warm hearth crowd, Our home-fire blazes broad, and bright, and high, And the roof rings with voices glad and loud ; Spare me awhile ! raise up my drooping brow ! I am content to die — but, oh! not now!
Strana 215 - FAINTER her slow step falls from day to day, Death's hand is heavy on her darkening brow ; Yet doth she fondly cling to earth, and say, " I am content to die, — but, oh ! not now ! — Not while the blossoms of the joyous spring Make the warm air such luxury to breathe ; Not while the birds such lays of gladness sing ; Not while bright flowers around my footsteps wreathe. Spare me, great God ! lift up my drooping brow ; I am content to die, — but, oh ! not now...
Strana 173 - THOU, my merry love ; — bold in thy glee. Under the bough, or by the firelight dancing, With thy sweet temper, and thy spirit free, Didst come, as restless as a bird's wing glancing, Full of a wild and irrepressible mirth, Like a young sunbeam to the...
Strana 67 - I last took a view Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew ; And now in the grass behold they are laid, And the tree is my seat, that once lent me a shade. The blackbird has fled to another retreat, Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat, And the scene where his melody charmed me before, Resounds, with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.
Strana 217 - The spring is come again — the joyful spring ! Again the banks with clustering flowers are spread ; The wild bird dips upon its wanton wing : — The child of earth is numbered with the dead ! " Thee never more the sunshine shall awake, Beaming all redly through the lattice-pane ; The steps of friends thy slumbers may not break, Nor fond familiar voice arouse again ! Death's silent shadow veils thy darkened brow ; Why didst thou linger ? — thou art happier now...
Strana 174 - Fair shoulders — curling lip — and dauntless brow — Fit for the world's strife, not for Poet's dreaming : And proud the lifting of thy stately head, And the firm bearing of thy conscious tread. Different...
Strana 213 - WEEP not for him that dieth — For he sleeps, and is at rest; And the couch whereon he lieth Is the green earth's quiet breast : But weep for him who pineth On a far land's hateful shore, Who wearily declineth Where ye see his face no more ! n. Weep not for him that dieth...