The sun-maid, by the author of 'Artiste'. by M.N. Grant


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Side 203 - And of this, oh, my Father! be sure — That the blood of thy child is as pure As the blessing I beg ere it flow, And the last thought that soothes me below. Though the virgins of Salem lament, Be the judge and the hero unbent! I have won the great battle for thee, And my Father and Country are free!
Side 156 - Though worthless our conceptions all of thee, Yet shall thy shadowed image fill our breast, And waft its homage to thy Deity. God ! thus alone my lonely thoughts can soar ; Thus seek thy presence, Being wise and good ! Midst thy vast works admire, obey, adore...
Side 338 - WHEN the latest strife is lost, and all is done with, Ere we slumber in the spirit and the brain, We drowse back, in dreams, to days that life begun with, And their tender light returns to us again. I have cast away the tangle and the torment Of the cords that bound my life up in a mesh : And the pulse begins to throb that long lay dormant 'Neath their pressure ; and the old wounds bleed afresh.

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