Poems ... (Google eBook)

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E. Moxon, 1839 - 48 pages
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Page 2 - Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain. Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise ! * Each stamps its image as the other flies.
Page 7 - Lighter than air, Hope's summer-visions die, If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky; If but a beam of sober Reason play, Lo, Fancy's fairy frost-work melts away ! But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Power, Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour ? These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight, Pour round her path a stream of living light ; And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest, Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest ! HUMAN LIFE.
Page 33 - CHILD of the sun ! pursue thy rapturous flight. Mingling with her thou lov'st in fields of light; And, where the flowers of paradise unfold, Quaff fragrant nectar from their cups of gold. There shall thy wings, rich as an evening sky Expand and shut with silent ecstasy ! Yet wert thou once a worm, a thing that crept On the bare earth, then wrought a tomb and slept And such is man ; soon from his cell of clay To burst a seraph in the blaze of day.
Page 17 - Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head, and honour the face of the old man, and fear thy God : I am the LORD.
Page 4 - SWEET MEMORY, wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail, To view the fairy haunts of long-lost hours, Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers. Ages and climes remote to Thee impart What charms in Genius and refines in Art ; Thee, in whose...
Page 32 - Go you may call it madness, folly ; You shall not chase my gloom away. There's such a charm in melancholy, I would not, if I could, be gay.
Page 1 - Long may the ruin spare its hallowed guest ! As jars the hinge, what sullen echoes call ! Oh haste, unfold the hospitable hall ! That hall, where once, in antiquated state, The chair of justice held the grave debate.
Page 17 - Her parents, the duke and duchess, with all the household, gentlemen and gentlewomen, were hunting in the park. I found her in her chamber, reading...
Page 4 - Hark! the bee winds her small but mellow horn,' Blithe to salute the sunny smile of morn. O'er thymy downs she bends her busy course. And many a stream allures her to its source. Tis noon, 'tis night. That eye so finely wrought, Beyond the search of sense, the soar of thought, Now vainly asks the scenes she left behind; Its orb so full, its vision so confin'd!
Page 18 - I began thus far to assent both to them and divers of my friends here at home ; and not less to an inward prompting which now grew daily upon me, that by labour and intent study, which I take to be my portion in- this life, joined with the strong propensity of nature, I might perhaps leave something so written to after-times, as they should not willingly let it die.

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