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" What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? What ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be: Shadow of annoyance Never came near... "
The moral and intellectual school book - Página 260
por William Martin - 18?? - 348 páginas
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A cyclopædia of poetical quotations, arranged by H.G. Adams

Cyclopaedia - 1853 - 733 páginas
...I still shall wait Some new hereafter, and a future state. Prior. 24 AFTER. AGE. We look before and after, And pine for what is not; Our sincerest laughter...is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. Shelley. Oh! it is ecstacy in early days, When youth is ours — before the scorching...
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A collection of poetry for the use of juvenile classes, arranged, with notes ...

W H Cordeaux - 1853
...never heard Praise of love or wine That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. We look before and after, And pine for what is not : Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught : Our sweetest aongs are those that tell of saddest thought. Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know,...
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The Poetry of the Sentiments

Rufus Wilmot Griswold - 1853 - 320 páginas
...deep Than we mortals dream, Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream ? We look before and after, And pine for what is not : Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught ; Our sweetest Bongs are those that tell of saddest thought. Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear ; If...
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The Rhyme and Reason of Country Life, Or, Selections from Fields Old and New

Susan Fenimore Cooper - 1854 - 428 páginas
...Matched with thine would be all But an empty vaunt — A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain...What love of thine own kind ? what ignorance of pain ? With thy clear, keen joyance Languor can not be : Shades of annoyance Never come near thee : Thou...
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Gleanings from the Poets: For Home and School

1854 - 430 páginas
...with thine, would be all But an empty vaunt, — . A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain...What love of thine own kind ? What ignorance of pain ? With thy clear, keen joyance Languor cannot be : Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee : Thou...
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Pictorial Calendar of the Seasons, ...

Mary Botham Howitt - 1854 - 567 páginas
...with thine would be all But an empty vaunt, — A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain...What love of thine own kind ? what ignorance of pain ? With thy clear, keen joyance, Languor cannot be ; Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee : Thou...
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The Boy's Second Help to Reading: A Selection of Choice Passages from ...

Theodore Alors W. Buckley - 1854 - 312 páginas
...Matched with thine would be all But an empty vaunt — A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain...What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain P With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be : Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee : Thou lovest...
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The Tent and the Altar: Or, Sketches from Patriarchial Life

John Cumming - 1854 - 365 páginas
...hopefully to do so, for Christ's sake. CHAPTER XVI. • THE SCHOOL OF EXPERIENCE. " We look before and after, And pine for what is not ; Our sincerest laughter...is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought." " For I have learned by experience that the Lord hath blessed me for thy sake."...
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Sacred Poetry

1854 - 236 páginas
...comprehends his trust, and to the same Keeps faithful, with a singleness of aim. We look before and after, And pine for what is not ; Our sincerest laughter...is fraught ; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. SHELLEY. AOE. Rightly it is said That man descends into the vale of years ; Yet...
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Pictorial Calendar of the Seasons, ...

Mary Botham Howitt - 1854 - 567 páginas
...thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. P What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain 1 What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain ? What love of thine own kind 1 what ignorance of pain ? With thy clear, keen joyance, Languor cannot be ; Shadow of annoyance Never...
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