Cupid's Album

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M. Doolady, 1866 - 332 стор.
 

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Сторінка 171 - I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight : and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here.
Сторінка 44 - Yet the Lord will command his lovingkindness in the daytime, and in the night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life.
Сторінка 171 - The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan. Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.
Сторінка 171 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war: These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Сторінка 129 - Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time, . Calm or convulsed, in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving ; boundless, endless, and sublime, The image of Eternity, the throne Of the invisible, — even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
Сторінка 307 - Time, Where the softest of airs are playing; There's a cloudless sky and a tropical clime, And a song as sweet as a vesper chime, And the Junes with the roses are straying. And the name of that isle is the Long Ago...
Сторінка 171 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy...
Сторінка 306 - Thou art gone to the grave! but we will not deplore thee, Whose God was thy Ransom, thy Guardian, and • Guide ; He gave thee, He took thee, and He will restore thee, And death has no sting, for the Saviour has died.
Сторінка 167 - The torch shall be extinguish'd which hath lit My midnight lamp— and what is writ, is writ; Would it were worthier; but I am not now That which I have been — and my visions flit Less palpably before me — and the glow Which in my spirit dwelt is fluttering, faint, and low.
Сторінка 320 - And some sank, lingering, day by day ; The quiet graveyard — some lie there — And cruel Ocean has his share — We're not all here. We are all here ! Even they — the dead — though dead, so dear; Fond Memory, to her duty true, Brings back their faded forms to view.

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