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Apollonicon beauty behold bell beneath bird bloom blue bosom bower breast breath breeze bright brow busy bee CATARACT OF LODORE Charlotte Smith child clouds cold dance dark dead deep dewy doth dream earth fair fairy fear flowers gale glory glow glow-worm grave green hail hand harebell hast hath hear heard heart heaven hill hour INEZ DE CASTRO John Barleycorn leaves light live lonely moon morning mother mountain Nature's ne'er neath nest never night o'er old oaken bucket pale rill rise rock round scene shade shine showers sigh sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit Spring star stream Summer sweet tear tell tempest thee thine thou thought toil tomb tree Twas Twill vale virgin touch voice wandering waves weary ween weep wild wind wing wood Yarrow youth
Стр. 104 - FLOWERS. THE melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the withered leaves lie dead ; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread. The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrub
Стр. 291 - The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride, With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. T"ar from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learned to stray; Along the cool sequestered vale of life They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Стр. 290 - the living lyre. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul. Full many a gem, of purest ray serene, The dark unfa
Стр. 246 - chequered shade; And young and old come forth to play On a sunshine holiday, Till the livelong daylight fail; Then to the spicy nutbrown ale, With stories told of many a feat, How fairy Mab the junkets ate; She was pinched, and pulled, she said, And he by friar's lantern led;
Стр. 227 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue, Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on
Стр. 225 - CONVALESCENCE. SEE the wretch that long has tost On the thorny bed of pain, At length repair his vigour lost, And breathe and walk again. The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise. GRAY.
Стр. 247 - The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of Harmony ; That Orpheus' self may heave his head From golden slumber on a bed Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear Such strains as would have won the ear Of Pluto, to have quite set free
Стр. 89 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round ; And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, Which cheer, but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in. COWPEB
Стр. 244 - ycleped Euphrosyne, And by men, heart-easing Mirth, Whom lovely Venus at a birth With two sister Graces more To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore: Or whether (as some sages sing) The frolic wind that breathes the spring, Zephyr, with Aurora playing, As he met her once a-maying, There on beds of
Стр. 264 - yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts, With brede ethereal wove, O'erhang his wavy bed: Now air is hushed, save where the weak-eyed bat, With short shrill shrieks flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path,