The Ladies' Wreath: A Selection from the Female Poetic Writers of England and America : with Original Notices and Notes : Prepared Especially for Young Ladies : a Gift Book for All Seasons

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Sarah Josepha Buell Hale
Marsh, Capen, Lyon, and Webb, 1839 - 408 стор.

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Сторінка 25 - And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er. When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Сторінка 283 - He went to the windows of those who slept, And over each pane like a fairy crept: Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped, By the light of the morn were seen Most beautiful things.
Сторінка 127 - DOWN in a green and shady bed, A modest violet grew, Its stalk was bent, it hung its head, As if to hide from view.
Сторінка 380 - Melancholy has her sovran shrine, Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine; His soul shall taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
Сторінка 165 - We have been friends together— Shall a light word part us now? We have been gay together; We have laughed at little jests; For the fount of hope was gushing, Warm and joyous, in our breasts. But laughter now hath fled thy lip, And sullen glooms thy brow; We have been gay together— Shall a light word part us now?
Сторінка 62 - Ye of the rose lip 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. Away from the dwellings of care-worn men, The waters are sparkling in grove and glen ! Away from the chamber and sullen hearth, The young leaves are dancing in breezy mirth ! Their light stems thrill to the wild-wood strains, And youth is abroad in my green domains.
Сторінка 62 - From the night-bird's lay through the starry time, In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime, To the swan's wild note by the Iceland lakes, When the dark fir-branch into verdure breaks.
Сторінка 223 - I see Him, hear Him, everywhere, In all things — darkness, light, Silence, and sound ; but most of all, When slumber's dusky curtains fall, At the dead hour of night.
Сторінка 31 - ... O'er his low bed may weep. One sleeps where southern vines are drest Above the noble slain : He wrapt his colours round his breast On a blood-red field of Spain. And one — o'er her the myrtle showers Its leaves, by soft winds fanned ; She faded midst Italian flowers — The last of that bright band. And parted thus they rest, who played Beneath the same green tree ; Whose voices mingled as they prayed Around one parent knee...
Сторінка 282 - THE Frost looked forth one still, clear night, And whispered, " Now I shall be out of sight ; So through the valley and over the height, In silence I'll take my way. I will not go on like that blustering train, — The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain, Who make so much bustle and noise in vain, But I'll be as busy as they...

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