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ancient answer apple-tree Asia asked baron beautiful BIJOU GIFT birds blue breast bright bucket build called castle Charley child comes dear death earth EAST Edward face father friends fruit gave GEMS OF POETRY gentle George girls give gold grow half hand happy head hear heard heart horses JUVENILE CASKET kind king land leave light lived looked Mahometan manner mean Michel morning mother nest never night noble once PANORAMA piece play pleased pleasure poor Prince religion rest returned seen sheep sing smiled soon spirit stood sweet tears tell tended thee thing thou thought thousand took travellers tree true turned tutor valleys whole wings winter wish wood young
Side 8 - How fleet is a glance of the mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there ; But alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair.
Side 7 - Ye winds, that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more. My friends , — do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see.
Side 17 - The morn has but just looked out, and smiled, When he starts from his humble grassy nest, And is up and away with the dew on his breast, And a hymn in his heart, to yon pure bright sphere, To warble it out in his Maker's ear. Ever, my child ! be thy morn's first lays Tuned, like the lark's, to thy Maker's praise. What is that, mother...
Side 13 - The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket arose from the well. How sweet from the green, mossy brim to receive it, As poised on the curb it inclined to my lips ! Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it, Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips. And now, far removed from the loved situation, The tear...
Side 7 - My sorrows I then might assuage In the ways of religion and truth ; Might learn from the wisdom of age, And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth. Religion ! what treasure untold Resides in that heavenly word ! More precious than silver or gold, Or all that this earth can afford.
Side 8 - Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land In a moment I seem to be there ; But alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest, The beast is laid down in his lair ; Even here is a season of rest, And I to my cabin repair. There's mercy in every place, And mercy, encouraging thought ! Gives even affliction a grace And reconciles man to his lot.
Side 7 - Never hear the sweet music of speech; I start at the sound of my own. The beasts that roam over the plain My form with indifference see: They are so unacquainted with man, Their tameness is shocking to me.
Side 6 - Solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face ? Better dwell in the midst of alarms, Than reign in this horrible place. I am out of humanity's reach, I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech, I start at the sound of my own.