The Poetical Remains of William Sidney Walker

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1852
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Стр. xliv - I travelled among unknown men In lands beyond the sea; Nor, England ! did I know till then What love I bore to thee. 'Tis past, that melancholy dream ! Nor will I quit thy shore A second time; for still I seem To love thee more and more. Among thy mountains did I feel The joy of my desire; And she I cherished turned...
Стр. 31 - Too solemn for day, too sweet for night, Come not in darkness, come not in light ; But come in some twilight interim, When the gloom is soft, and the light is dim...
Стр. 71 - Of earth was loosed, it seemed as though a pall Of years were lifted, and thou didst appear Such, as of old amidst thy home's calm sphere Thou sat'st, a kindly Presence felt by all In joy or grief, from morn to evening-fall, The peaceful Genius of that mansion dear.
Стр. 57 - When God hath shower'd the earth ; so lovely seem'd That landscape : and of pure, now purer air Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair : now gentle gales, Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmy spoils.
Стр. 11 - THY smiles, thy talk, thy aimless plays, So beautiful approve thee, So winning light are all thy ways, I cannot choose but love thee. Thy balmy breath upon my brow Is like the summer air, As o'er my cheek thou leanest now, To plant a soft kiss there. Thy steps are dancing toward the bound Between the child and woman, And thoughts and feelings more profound. And other years are coming...
Стр. 48 - My fretful cry — Return ! Return ! Alas ! the dead return no more ! It may not be ; my lot of thrall Was dealt me by a mightier hand ; The grief, that came not at my call, Will not depart at my command. Then ask me not, sweet friend, to wake The harp, so dear to thee of yore ; Wait, till the clouds of sorrow break, And I can hope and love once more. When pain has done its part assigned, And...
Стр. 71 - The peaceful Genius of that mansion dear. Was it the craft of all-persuading Love That wrought this marvel ? or is Death indeed A mighty master, gifted from above With alchemy benign, to wounded hearts Minist'ring thus, by quaint and subtle arts, Strange comfort, whereon after-thought may feed...
Стр. xii - ... intermittent bullying. -Nevertheless, his present biographer declines to ratify Mr. Coleridge's view of the radical damage wrought on Walker's whole being by this unrelenting persecution, and doubts whether he sustained lasting injury, either morally or intellectually, from the annoyances in question, which do not appear ever to have penetrated much more than skin deep. " Certainly, they neither crushed his spirit, nor materially, if at all, retarded or distorted the development of his genius.
Стр. 18 - What are you, lady? Nought is here To tell your name or story, To claim for you our smile or tear, To dub you Whig or Tory; I don't suppose we ever met, And how shall I discover Where first you danced a minuet, Or first deceived a lover? Tell me what day the Post records Your mother's silk and satin; What night your father lulls the Lords...
Стр. 174 - Thus saith the Lord, Learn not the way of the heathen, and be not dismayed at the signs of heaven; for the heathen are dismayed at them.

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