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Adam appears beauty Behold beneath breath cause charms close dark dear death deep delight desire divine dream earth ease eyes face fair faith fall fear feel fire flowers force fruit give glory grace half hand happy hast head hear heart heaven hope hour human kind land leaves length less light live Lord lost mean mind nature never night o'er once pain peace perhaps pleasure poor praise prove received rest rise scene seek seems seen shine side sight skies smile song soon soul sound speak spirit stand stream sweet taste tears tell thee theme thine things thou thought thousand true truth turn virtue voice waste wind wish worth
Сторінка 109 - Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take, The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head.
Сторінка 42 - I am monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 0 Solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face ? Better dwell in the midst of alarms Than reign in this horrible place.
Сторінка 101 - So shall my walk be close with God, Calm and serene my frame ; So purer light shall mark the road That leads me to the Lamb.
Сторінка 52 - Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free, They touch our country and their shackles fall.
Сторінка 133 - That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth : But higher far my proud pretensions rise ; The son of parents passed into the skies.
Сторінка 139 - Thy indistinct expressions seem Like language utter'd in a dream ; Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme, My Mary! Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary ! For, could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!
Сторінка 42 - Ye winds that have made me your sport. Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more : My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see.
Сторінка 108 - The hand that gave it, still supplies The gracious light and heat ; His truths upon the nations rise, They rise, but never set. 4 Let everlasting thanks be thine, For such a bright display, As makes a world of darkness shine With beams of heavenly day.
Сторінка 133 - Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours, When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, The violet, the pink, and jessamine, I pricked them into paper with a pin (And thou wast happier than myself the while, Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile) ; Could those few pleasant days again appear, Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here?