The forest sanctuary, and other poems; Records of woman, with other poemsHilliard, Gray, Little, and Wilkins, 1827 |
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Side 11
... cheek Seem'd theirs a torturing panoply to speak ! And there were some , from whom the very mind Had been wrung out : they smil'd - oh ! startling smile Whence man's high soul is fled ! -where doth it sleep the while ? XVII But onward ...
... cheek Seem'd theirs a torturing panoply to speak ! And there were some , from whom the very mind Had been wrung out : they smil'd - oh ! startling smile Whence man's high soul is fled ! -where doth it sleep the while ? XVII But onward ...
Side 33
... dream of life , Within her woman's breast so deeply wrought , It seem'd as if a reed so slight and weak Must , in the rending storm not quiver only - break ! LXII . And thus it was the young cheek flush'd 5 THE FOREST SANCTUARY . 33.
... dream of life , Within her woman's breast so deeply wrought , It seem'd as if a reed so slight and weak Must , in the rending storm not quiver only - break ! LXII . And thus it was the young cheek flush'd 5 THE FOREST SANCTUARY . 33.
Side 34
Mrs. Hemans Andrews Norton. LXII . And thus it was the young cheek flush'd and faded , As the swift blood in currents came and went , And hues of death the marble brow o'ershaded , And the sunk eye a watery lustre sent Through its white ...
Mrs. Hemans Andrews Norton. LXII . And thus it was the young cheek flush'd and faded , As the swift blood in currents came and went , And hues of death the marble brow o'ershaded , And the sunk eye a watery lustre sent Through its white ...
Side 58
... cheek made pale , Nor haunt his sunny rest with what befel In that drear prison - house . — His eye must grow More dark with thought , more earnest his fair brow , More high his heart in youthful strength must swell ; So shall it fitly ...
... cheek made pale , Nor haunt his sunny rest with what befel In that drear prison - house . — His eye must grow More dark with thought , more earnest his fair brow , More high his heart in youthful strength must swell ; So shall it fitly ...
Side 64
... cheek is faded , And the brow heavily with thought o'ershaded , And all the brightness from the aspect gone ! -Upon my breast she sunk , when doubt was fled , Weeping as those may weep , that meet in woe and dread . XXVIII . For there ...
... cheek is faded , And the brow heavily with thought o'ershaded , And all the brightness from the aspect gone ! -Upon my breast she sunk , when doubt was fled , Weeping as those may weep , that meet in woe and dread . XXVIII . For there ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
art thou beautiful beneath blue streams bosom bowers breast breath breeze bright bright land Bright waves brow cheek child dark dead death deep dreams dust dwell earth Eudora Ev'n faded faint fair fair brow farewell fear fled floating flowers forest fount gathering film gaze gentle glance gleam gloom glow grave green grief hair hath heart Heaven holy hour hush'd JOANNA BAILLIE joyous Lake of Lucerne land leave light lips lone look'd lov'd lyre midst mine-a mirth mother mournful night o'er pale pass'd pour'd prayer rest RHEIMS rose round seem'd shade shadow shining shining band shore silent sleep slumber smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit stars stood storm stream strong sunny sweet tears thee thine thou art Thou hast thou wert thought tomb tone Twas unto voice wave weep wild wind woman woods young youth
Populære passager
Side 225 - Ye of the rose-cheek and dew-bright eye, And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly, With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, Come forth to the sunshine, I may not stay...
Side 89 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
Side 221 - CHILD, amidst the flowers at play, While the red light fades away ; Mother, with thine earnest eye, Ever following silently ; Father, by the breeze of eve Call'd thy harvest work to leave — Pray : ere yet the dark hours be, Lift the heart and bend the knee...
Side 222 - Traveller, in the stranger's land Far from thine own household band ; Mourner, haunted by the tone Of a voice from this world gone ; Captive, in whose narrow cell Sunshine hath not leave to dwell ; Sailor, on the darkening sea — Lift the heart and bend the knee...
Side 95 - And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it comes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand, therefore nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers and plants that do best perfume the air.
Side 227 - Nought looks the same, save the nest we made!" Sad is your tale of the beautiful earth, Birds that o'ersweep it in power and mirth ! Yet through the wastes of the trackless air Ye have a guide, and shall we despair? Ye over desert and deep have pass'd — So may we reach our bright home at last ! THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.
Side 226 - And what have ye found in the monarch's dome, Since last ye traversed the blue sea's foam? — " We have found a change, we have found a pall, And a gloom o'ershadowing the banquet's hall, And a mark on the floor as of life-drops spilt — Nought looks the same, save the nest we built!
Side 227 - midst the blooms of the morn may dwell, I tarry no longer — farewell, farewell ! The summer is coming, on soft winds borne, Ye may press the grape, ye may bind the corn '. For me, I depart to a brighter shore, Ye are mark'd by care, ye are mine no more. I go where the loved who have left you dwell, And the flowers are not Death's — fare ye well, farewell ! THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
Side 147 - Banners of battle o'er him hung, And warriors slept beneath, And light, as noon's broad light was flung On the settled face of death. On the settled face of death A strong and ruddy glare, Though...
Side 218 - The mountain-storms rise high In the snowy Pyrenees, And toss the pine-boughs through the sky, Like rose-leaves on the breeze. But let the storm rage on ! Let the fresh wreaths be shed ! • For the Roncesvalles' field is won, — There slumber England's dead.