The Children's Bower; Or, What You Like, Volumen2

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Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1858
 

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Página 282 - Fear no more the frown o' the great: Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Página 232 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead ; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted...
Página 255 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
Página 281 - Implored your highness' pardon and set forth A deep repentance: nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it; he died As one that had been studied in his death, To throw away the dearest thing he owed As 'twere a careless trifle.
Página 256 - Cold is thy brow, my son ! and I am chill, As to my bosom I have tried to press thee. How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, And hear thy sweet 'my father!
Página 233 - She is not dead, — the child of our affection,— But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ himself doth rule. In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, By guardian angels led, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives, whom we call dead.
Página 263 - Yet grieve thou not, nor think thy youth is gone, Nor deem that glorious season e'er could die. Thy pleasant youth, a little while withdrawn, Waits on the horizon of a brighter sky ; Waits, like the morn, that folds her wing...
Página 18 - Sound needed none, Nor any voice of joy ; his spirit drank The spectacle: sensation, soul, and form, All melted into him; they swallowed up His animal being ; in them did he live, And by them did he live; they were his life. In such access of mind, in such high hour Of visitation from the living God, Thought was not ; in enjoyment it expired.
Página 107 - COME back to your mother, ye children, for shame, Who have wandered like truants, for riches or fame ! With a smile on her face, and a sprig in her cap, She calls you to feast from her bountiful lap.
Página 251 - There in the twilight cold and gray, Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay, And from the sky, serene and far, A voice fell, like a falling star, Excelsior ! POEMS ON SLAVERY.

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