The Works of Anna LŠtitia Barbauld, Volumen1


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Pßgina 169 - I know not what thou art, But know that thou and I must part ; And when, or how, or where we met I own to me 'sa secret yet.
Pßgina 198 - Although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines ; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat ; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls : Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation.
Pßgina 199 - These to Thee, my God, we owe, Source whence all our blessings flow! And for these my soul shall raise Grateful vows and solemn praise.
Pßgina 170 - Life ! we've been long together, Through pleasant and through cloudy weather ; 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear — Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear : — Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time ; Say not ' Good night ' — but in some brighter clime Bid me
Pßgina 231 - FAIR stood the wind for France When we our sails advance, Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry; But putting to the main, At Caux, the mouth of Seine, With all his martial train, Landed King Harry.
Pßgina 310 - They were lovely in their lives, and in their deaths they were not divided.
Pßgina 110 - Marks the young dawn of every virtuous aim. And fans the smoking flax into a flame. His ears are open to the softest cry, His grace descends to meet the lifted eye ; He reads the language of a silent tear, And sighs are incense from a heart sincere.
Pßgina 204 - 11 mount aloft to thine abode ; On wings of love our souls shall fly, Nor tire amidst the heavenly road. 273. LM MBS BARBAULD. The Christian Warfare. 1 AWAKE, my soul ! lift up thine eyes ; See where thy foes against thee rise, In long array, a numerous host ; Awake, my soul ! or thou art lost.
Pßgina 84 - No more by varying passions beat, O gently guide my pilgrim feet To find thy hermit cell; Where in some pure and equal sky, Beneath thy soft indulgent eye, The modest virtues dwell. Simplicity in Attic vest, And Innocence with candid breast, And clear undaunted eye ; And Hope, who points to distant years, Fair opening through this vale of tears, A vista to the sky.
Pßgina 100 - Unlock thy copious stores ; those tender showers That drop their sweetness on the infant buds, And silent dews that swell The milky ear's green stem, And feed the flowering osier's early shoots ; And call those winds, which through the whispering boughs With warm and pleasant breath Salute the blowing flowers.

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