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ancient arms Aymer battle bear beauty beneath blue borne breast breath breeze bright bring brother brow callid child cloud Cross dark dead death deep died dreams dust dwell earth face fair faith fall father fear floating flowers gleam gone grave green Hall hand hath hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour land leave light live lone look memory midst mighty mountain night NOTE o'er once pass pass'd rest rise rocks rose round scene shades silent sleep smile soft song soul sound speak spirit spring stars step strain streams strong sweet sword tears tell thee thine things thou thou art Thou hast thought tomb tone turning voice wave weep wild wind woods young youth
Page 168 - Speak, father!' once again he cried, 'If I may yet be gone!' And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on.
Page 146 - Give back the lost and lovely ! — those for whom The place was kept at board and hearth so long ! The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom, And the vain yearning woke 'midst festal song ! Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown — But all is not thine own.
Page 169 - And shouted but once more aloud, "My Father! must I stay?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way. They...
Page 78 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
Page 171 - With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings.
Page 188 - LEAVES have their time to fall. And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death.
Page 194 - CHILD, amidst the flowers at play, While the red light fades away; Mother, with thine earnest eye Ever following silently ; Father, by the breeze of eve Called thy harvest-work to leave ; Pray! — ere yet the dark hours be, Lift the heart and bend the knee!
Page 187 - Her lot is on you! — silent tears to weep, And patient smiles to wear through suffering's hour, And sumless riches, from affection's deep, To pour on broken reeds— a wasted shower! And to make idols, and to find them clay, And to bewail that worship — therefore pray!
Page 340 - OH ! how could Fancy crown with thee, In ancient days, the god of wine, And bid thee at the banquet be, Companion of the vine ? Thy home, wild plant, is where each sound Of revelry hath long been o'er ; Where song's full notes once peal'd around, But now are heard no more.