Palgrave's Golden Treasury of Songs and Lyrics ... (Google eBook)

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Macmillan and Company, Limited, 1901
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Page 222 - It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook, In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Page 9 - SHE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Page 87 - The waves beside them danced, but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee : A poet could not but be gay In such a jocund company...
Page 125 - Who are these coming to the sacrifice ? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest...
Page 73 - We look before and after, And pine for what is not : Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Page 52 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn ; He never came a wink too soon. Nor brought too long a day ; But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! I remember, I remember...
Page 71 - The pale purple even Melts around thy flight ; Like a star of heaven, In the broad daylight, Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight.
Page 41 - Milton ! thou shouldst be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen. Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men : Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Page 137 - Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight, And custom lie upon thee with a weight Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life ! O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That Nature yet remembers What was so fugitive!
Page 46 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.

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