The Diosma, a Perennial

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Phillips, Sampson, 1851 - Всего страниц: 287
 

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Стр. 121 - We watched her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. " ' So silently we seemed to speak, So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers To eke her living out. " ' Our very hopes belied our fears ; Our fears our hopes belied ; We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died. " ' For when the morn came dim and sad, And chill with early showers, Her quiet eyelids closed ; — she had Another morn...
Стр. 189 - Now, I shall be out of sight ; So through the valley and over the height, In silence I'll take my way ; I will not go on like that blustering train, The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain, Who make so much bustle and noise in vain ; — But I'll be as busy as they.
Стр. 145 - Who God doth late and early pray More of his grace than gifts to lend; And entertains the harmless day With a religious book or friend — This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise or fear to fall: Lord of himself, though not of lands, And, having nothing, yet hath all.
Стр. 131 - twill shortly be With every mark on earth from me ! A wave of dark oblivion's sea Will sweep across the place, Where I have trod the sandy shore Of Time, — and been to be no more ; Of me, — my day, — the name I bore.
Стр. 205 - Thee, when young Spring first question'd Winter's sway, And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight, Thee on this bank he threw To mark his victory. In this low vale, the promise of the year, Serene, thou openest to the nipping gale, Unnoticed and alone, Thy tender elegance...
Стр. 190 - I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he; "This costly pitcher I'll burst in three; And the glass of water they've left for me Shall 'tchick!
Стр. 144 - HOW happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his utmost skill ! Whose passions not his masters are; Whose soul is still prepared for death, Untied unto the world by care Of public fame or private breath...
Стр. 126 - Sleep breathes at last from out thee, My little patient boy ; And balmy rest about thee— Smooths off the day's annoy. I sit me down and think Of all thy winning ways; Yet almost wish with sudden shrink That I had less to praise.
Стр. 85 - Gainst dreams of baffled bliss the heart to steel, To wander sad down age's vale of tears, As whirl the wither'd leaves from friendship's tree, And on earth's wintry wold alone to be : Weep not for Her...
Стр. 84 - Weep not for her ! Her span was like the sky, Whose thousand stars shine beautiful and bright ; Like flowers, that know not what it is to die ; Like long-link'd, shadeless months of Polar light ; Like Music floating o'er a waveless lake, While Echo answers from the flowery brake : Weep not for her ! Weep not for her! She died in early youth, Ere Hope had lost its rich romantic hues ; When human bosoms...

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