The Mourner's Chaplet: An Offering of Sympathy for Bereaved Friends. Selected from American PoetsGould, Kendall & Lincoln, 1844 - 120 páginas |
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Página iii
... feel- ings may be akin to his own . Through him Truth speaks ; and wild or wayward as may seem her revela- tions , yet it is the common sentiment , the universal emotion , she speaks ; she gives the germ of a nobler principle , the ...
... feel- ings may be akin to his own . Through him Truth speaks ; and wild or wayward as may seem her revela- tions , yet it is the common sentiment , the universal emotion , she speaks ; she gives the germ of a nobler principle , the ...
Página iv
... feeling as if relief were a treason to the beloved object . Few can afford consolation in periods like these few should ... feel - he has thought as we think and has been able to give voice to thought and emotion . We are bound by a new ...
... feeling as if relief were a treason to the beloved object . Few can afford consolation in periods like these few should ... feel - he has thought as we think and has been able to give voice to thought and emotion . We are bound by a new ...
Página 14
... feeling , undefined , Rolled wildly o'er my breast ; Low , stifled sounds , and dusky forms , Seemed moving in the gloom , As if death's dark array were come , To bear thee to the tomb . And when I could not keep the tear From gathering ...
... feeling , undefined , Rolled wildly o'er my breast ; Low , stifled sounds , and dusky forms , Seemed moving in the gloom , As if death's dark array were come , To bear thee to the tomb . And when I could not keep the tear From gathering ...
Página 26
... feel the awe Of one who walks alone , Among the wrecks of former days , In mournful ruin strown ; I start to hear the stirring sounds Among the cypress trees , For the voice of the departed Is borne upon the breeze . That solemn voice ...
... feel the awe Of one who walks alone , Among the wrecks of former days , In mournful ruin strown ; I start to hear the stirring sounds Among the cypress trees , For the voice of the departed Is borne upon the breeze . That solemn voice ...
Página 48
... feel ! Mourn not the dead , they are at rest ! TO THE MEMORY OF A BROTHER . BEHOLD the glorious morn ! and where art thou , To feel its first rich breath on thy sweet brow , Child of our hope and love ! And stand , with the spring ...
... feel ! Mourn not the dead , they are at rest ! TO THE MEMORY OF A BROTHER . BEHOLD the glorious morn ! and where art thou , To feel its first rich breath on thy sweet brow , Child of our hope and love ! And stand , with the spring ...
Términos y frases comunes
angel ANNA CORA MOWATT beauty BEREAVED bitter blessed blest bliss bloom bosom breast breath breeze bright brow budding graces calm charm cheek cherub child clasped cold dark dark at noon dead dear death death angelic dreams dust earth EARTH'S CHILDREN faded fair fair brow feel flowers fond forever gazed gentle gloom gone grave grief happy hath hear heart heaven heavenly holy hope hour infant land art life's light lips live lone look memory mother mourn N. P. WILLIS ne'er never nevermore o'er pale passed peace pillow prayer pure rest rocky steps rose round seraph shed shining sigh silent sing sister skies sleep slumber smile soft sorrow soul spirit spring stars strange angelic sweet tears tender thee thine eye thou art thought tomb tone vision voice wake watched wave weary weep wild WILLIAM LEGGETT wings young
Pasajes populares
Página 25 - And with them the Being Beauteous Who unto my youth was given, More than all things else to love me, And is now a saint in heaven. With a slow and noiseless footstep Comes that messenger divine, Takes the vacant chair beside me, Lays her gentle hand in mine. And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes, Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Looking downward from the skies.
Página 61 - He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. My Lord has need of these flowerets gay, The Reaper said, and smiled : Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where he was once a child.
Página 24 - When the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight...
Página 61 - Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where he was once a child. 'They shall all bloom in fields of light, Transplanted by my care, And saints, upon their garments white, These sacred blossoms wear.
Página 50 - MOTHER, how still the baby lies ! I cannot hear his breath ; I cannot see his laughing eyes — They tell me this is death. My little work I thought to bring, And sat down by his bed, And pleasantly I tried to sing — They hushed me — he is dead. They say that he again will rise, More beautiful than now ; That God will bless him in the skies — 0, mother, tell me how...
Página 51 - O, yes, mamma ! how very gay Its wings of starry gold ! And see ! it lightly flies away Beyond my gentle hold. O, mother, now I know full well, If God that worm can change, And draw it from this broken cell, On golden wings to range, — How beautiful will brother be, When God shall give him wings, Above this dying world to flee, And live with heavenly things !
Página 20 - I cannot make him dead ! His fair sunshiny head Is ever bounding round my study chair ; Yet when my eyes, now dim With tears, I turn to him, The vision vanishes — he is not there...
Página 60 - I have nought that is fair?" saith he ; " Have nought but the bearded grain ? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again.
Página 83 - Should the .visions which hope spreads in light to thine eye, Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly, Then turn, and, through tears of repentant regret " Look aloft " to the sun that is never to set. Should they who are dearest, the son of thy heart, The wife of thy bosom, in sorrow depart, "Look aloft" from the darkness and dust of the tomb, To that soil where
Página 20 - Closed are his eyes; cold is his forehead fair; My hand that marble felt; O'er it in prayer I knelt; Yet my heart whispers that — he is not there ! I cannot make him dead!