Poems, Volume 2 (Google eBook)

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J. Johnson, 1805
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Page 296 - Thy nightly visits to my chamber made, That thou might'st know me safe and warmly laid...
Page 297 - Wouldst softly speak and stroke my head and smile — Could those few pleasant days again appear, Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here? I would not trust my heart : the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.
Page 206 - The sum is this. If man's convenience, health, Or safety interfere, his rights and claims Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs. Else they are all — the meanest things that are, As free to live, and to enjoy that life, As God was free to form them at the first, Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all.
Page 37 - Slaves cannot breathe in England ; * if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free, They touch our country, and their shackles, fall.
Page 214 - To stroke his azure neck, or to receive The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue. All creatures worship man, and all mankind One Lord, one Father.
Page 31 - God made the country, and man made the town. What wonder then that health and virtue, gifts, That can alone make sweet the bitter draught, That life holds out to all, should most abound And least be threatened in the fields and groves...
Page 214 - Behold the measure of the promise fill'd ; See Salem built, the labour of a God ! Bright as a sun the sacred city shines ; All kingdoms and all princes of the earth Flock to that light ; the glory of all lands Flows into her ; unbounded is her joy, . And endless her increase.
Page 206 - Sacred to neatness and repose, the alcove, The chamber, or refectory, may die : A necessary act incurs no blame. Not so when, held within their proper bounds, And guiltless of offence, they range the air, Or take their pastime...
Page 307 - The man that hails you Tom or Jack, And proves by thumps upon your back How he esteems your merit, Is such a friend, that one had need Be very much his friend indeed, .
Page 296 - Dupe of to-morrow even from a child. Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went, Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent, I learned at last submission to my lot; But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot.

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