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arms bear beauty beneath bird blue borne bound breast breath breeze bright bring brow cheek child dark dead death deep dreams dust dwell earth face fair fall farewell father fear flowers friends gentle glance gleam glorious glory glow gone grave green hall hand hath head hear heard heart Heaven hills holy hope hour Italy land leaves light lone look meet midst mother mountains mournful night o'er once pale pass'd passed proud rest rocks rose round seen shade shining shore silent sleep smile soft song soul sound spear spirit spring stars step strain stream sunny sweet sword tears tell thee thine things thou art thou hast thought tone tree unto voice wanderer waters wave weep wild wind woods young
Сторінка 66 - Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame. Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear: — They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Сторінка 67 - What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? — They sought a faith's pure shrine. Ay, call it holy ground, — The soil where first they trod! They have left unstained what there they found — Freedom to worship God ! Felicia Hemans.
Сторінка 62 - England's dead. The warlike of the isles, The men of field and wave '• Are not the rocks their funeral piles, The seas and shores their grave ' Go, stranger ! track the deep, Free, free the white sail spread Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep, Where rest not England's dead.
Сторінка 117 - As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow Sabean odours from the spicy shore Of Araby the Blest; with, such delay Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league Cheer'd with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles...
Сторінка 93 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath. And stars to set — but all — Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death ! THE LOST PLEIAD.
Сторінка 64 - Come forth, O ye children of gladness, come! Where the violets lie may be now your home. Ye of the rose-cheek and dew-bright eye, And the bounding footstep, to meet me, fly, With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay: Come forth to the sunshine: I may not stay!
Сторінка 172 - Is it far away, in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold, Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand? Is it there, sweet mother! that better land? Not there, not there, my child ! Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!
Сторінка 47 - O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown : Yet must thou hear a voice — Restore the dead ! Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee ! — Restore the dead, thou sea ! BRING FLOWERS.
Сторінка 89 - O'er each fair sleeping brow, She had each folded flower in sight— Where are those dreamers now? One midst the forests of the West, By a dark stream, is laid ; The Indian knows his place of rest Far in the cedar shade. The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one, He lies where pearls lie deep, He was the loved of all, yet none O'er his low bed may weep. One...