The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir, Volume 1 (Google eBook)

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W. Blackwood and sons, 1852
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Page 51 - And he said, While the child was yet alive, I fasted and wept: for I said, Who can tell whether God will be gracious to me, that the child may live? 23 But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast? can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.
Page 127 - Oh that I had wings like a dove ! for then would I flee away, and be at rest.
Page 51 - Is the child dead? And they said, He is dead. 20 Then David arose from the earth, and washed, and anointed himself, and changed his apparel, and came into the house of the Lord, and worshipped: then he came to his own house; and when he required, they set bread before him, and he did eat.
Page 16 - CASA WAPPY. And hast thou sought thy heavenly home, Our fond, dear boy — The realms where sorrow dare not come, Where life is joy? Pure at thy death as at thy birth, Thy spirit caught no taint from earth ; Even by its bliss, we mete our...
Page 63 - Weep not for Her ! Weep not for her ! — Her span was like the sky, Whose thousand stars shine beautiful and bright ; Like flowers that know not what it is to die ; Like...
Page 18 - Do what I may, go where I will, Thou meet'st my sight; There dost thou glide before me still— A form of light! I feel thy breath upon my cheek— I see thee smile, I hear thee speak— Till, oh ! my heart is like to break, Casa Wappy! Methinks thou smil'st before me now, With glance of stealth; The hair thrown back from thy full brow In buoyant health: I see thine eyes' deep violet light, Thy dimpled cheek carnationed bright, Thy clasping arms so round and white, Casa Wappy!
Page 19 - We mourn for thee when blind, blank night The chamber fills ; We pine for thee when morn's first light Reddens the hills ; The sun, the moon, the stars, the sea, All...
Page 21 - Farewell, then, — for a while, farewell, — Pride of my heart ! It cannot be that long we dwell, Thus torn apart. Time's shadows like the shuttle flee ; And dark howe'er life's night may be, Beyond the...
Page 153 - Grey ruin's golden crown, That lendest melancholy grace To haunts of old renown ; Thou mantlest o'er the battlement, By strife or storm decayed ; And fillest up each envious rent Time's canker-tooth hath made.
Page 64 - Weep not for her ! — It was not hers to feel The miseries that corrode amassing years, 'Gainst dreams of baffled bliss the heart to steel, To wander sad down age's vale of tears, As whirl the...

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