Gems Selected from the Poems of Caroline Bowles

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Light, 1836 - English poetry - 356 pages
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Page 39 - O that I had wings like a dove : for then would I flee away, and be at rest.
Page 33 - How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot ; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be ! Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung, Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.
Page 52 - Shakspeare, that, take him for all in all, we shall not look upon his like again.
Page xvi - Thy soul were fluttering. Mount up, immortal essence ! Young spirit ! haste, depart — And is this death ?— Dread Thing...
Page xviii - And then to lie and weep, And think the live-long night (Feeding thine own distress With accurate greediness) Of every past delight ; — Of all his winning ways, His pretty, playful smiles, His joy at sight of thee, His tricks, his mimicry, — And all his little wiles ! Oh ! these are recollections Round mothers' hearts that cling, — That mingle with the tears And smiles of after years, With oft awakening.
Page 117 - ... on foot they went, and took Salisbury in their way, purposely to see the good bishop, who made Mr. Hooker and his companion dine with him at his own table, which Mr. Hooker boasted of with much joy and gratitude when he saw his mother and friends ; and at the bishop's parting with him, the bishop gave him good counsel and his benediction, but forgot to give him money, which when the bishop had considered, he sent a servant in all haste to call Richard back to him ; and at Richard's return the...
Page x - I see Him, hear Him, everywhere, In all things — darkness, light, Silence, and sound ; but most of all, When slumber's dusky curtains fall, At the dead hour of night.
Page vii - THERE is a tongue in every leaf! A voice in every rill ! A voice that speaketh everywhere, In flood and fire, through earth and air ; A tongue that's never still...
Page 117 - Richard, I sent for you back to lend you a horse which hath carried me many a mile, and I thank God with much ease...
Page 77 - A SLANTING ray of evening light Shoots through the yellow pane; It makes the faded crimson bright, And gilds the fringe again : The window's Gothic framework falls In oblique shadows on the walls.

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