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Side 64 - You might hear by the heaving of her breast, That the coming and going of the wind Brought pleasure there and left passion behind. And wherever her airy footstep trod, Her trailing hair from the grassy sod Erased its light vestige, with shadowy sweep, Like a sunny storm o'er the dark green deep.
Side 81 - And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast : There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, There the first roses of the year shall blow; While angels with their silver wings o'ershade The ground, now sacred by thy reliques made.
Side 62 - There was a Power in this sweet place, An Eve in this Eden ; a ruling grace Which, to the flowers did they waken or dream, Was as God is to the starry scheme. A Lady, the wonder of her kind, Whose form was upborne by a lovely mind Which, dilating, had moulded her mien and motion Like a sea-flower unfolded beneath the ocean...
Side 78 - A rose's brief, bright life of joy, Such unto him was given ; — Go ! thou must play alone, my boy ! Thy brother is in heaven.
Side 78 - Oh! call my brother back to me, I cannot play alone; The summer comes with flower and bee — Where is my brother gone? " The butterfly is glancing bright Across the sunbeam's track; I care not now to chase its flight — Oh! call my brother back. " The flowers run wild — the flowers we sowed Around our garden-tree; Our vine is drooping with its load — Oh! call him back to me.
Side 30 - tis revolution all ; All change, no death : day follows night, and night The dying day : stars rise, and set, and rise : Earth takes the
Side 26 - But one the lofty follower of the sun, Sad when he sets, shuts up her yellow leaves, Drooping all night; and, when he warm returns, Points her enamour'd bosom to his ray.
Side 20 - Dumfries was like a besieged place. It was known he was dying, and the anxiety, not of the rich and the learned only, but of the mechanics and peasants, exceeded all belief. Wherever two or three people stood together, their talk was of Burns and of him alone ; they spoke of his history — of his person — of his works, — of his family — of his fame, and of his untimely and approaching fate, with a warmth and an enthusiasm which will ever endear Dumfries to my remembrance. All that he said...
Side 110 - Tis left to fly or fall alone. With wounded wing, or bleeding breast, Ah ! where shall either victim rest ? Can this with faded pinion soar From rose to tulip as before? Or Beauty, blighted in an hour, Find joy within her broken bower ? No : gayer insects fluttering by Ne'er droop the wing o'er those that die, And lovelier things have mercy shown To every failing but their own, And every woe a tear can claim Except an erring sister's shame.