Complete Works

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J.R. Smith, 1858 - English poetry - 340 pages
 

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Page 133 - And teach her fair steps tread our earth ; Till that divine Idea take a shrine Of crystal flesh, through which to shine : — Meet you her, my Wishes, Bespeak her to my blisses, And be ye call'd, my absent kisses.
Page 133 - And teach her fair steps to our earth : Till that divine Idea take a shrine Of crystal flesh, through which to shine Meet you her, my Wishes, Bespeak her to my blisses, And be ye call'd my absent kisses. I wish her Beauty, That owes not all its duty To gaudy tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie: Something more than Taffata or tissue can, Or rampant feather, or rich fan.
Page 135 - Can tame the wanton day Of gems that in their bright shades play. Each ruby there, Or pearl that dare appear, Be its own blush, be its own tear. A well-tamed Heart, For whose more noble smart Love may be long choosing a dart. Eyes, that bestow Full quivers on love's bow, Yet pay less arrows than they owe.
Page xvii - I'm sure, was in the right ; And I myself a Catholic will be, So far at least, great saint, to pray to thee...
Page xvii - Elisha-like (but with a wish much less, More fit thy greatness, and my littleness) Lo here I beg (I whom thou once didst prove So humble to esteem, so good to love) Not that thy spirit might on me doubled be, I ask but half thy mighty spirit for me ; And when my muse soars with so strong a wing, 'Twill learn of things divine, and first of thee to sing.
Page 134 - Of shop, or silkworms' toil, Or a bought blush, or a set smile. A face that's best By its own beauty drest, And can alone command the rest. A face made up Out of no other shop Than what nature's white hand sets ope.
Page 20 - One went to brag, th' other to pray ; One stands up close and treads on high, Where th' other dares not lend his eye. One nearer to God's altar trod, The other to the altar's God.
Page 38 - Poor world (said I), what wilt thou do To entertain this starry Stranger ? Is this the best thou canst bestow ? A cold, and not too cleanly, manger ? Contend, the powers of Heaven and Earth, To fit a bed for this huge birth ? Chorus: Contend, the powers, etc.
Page 40 - She sings Thy tears asleep, and dips Her kisses in Thy weeping eye ; She spreads the red leaves of Thy lips, That in their buds yet blushing lie. She 'gainst those mother diamonds tries The points of her young eagle's eyes. Welcome — tho' not to those gay flies, Gilded i...
Page 10 - Not in the evening's eyes, When they red with weeping are For the sun that dies, Sits sorrow with a face so fair; Nowhere but here did ever meet Sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet.

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