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Seite 156 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death ! HEMANS.
Seite 15 - It was my guide, my light, my all ; It bade my dark forebodings cease, And through the storm and danger's thrall It led me to the port of peace. Now safely moored, my perils o'er, I'll sing, first in night's diadem, For ever and for evermore, The Star, the Star of Bethlehem...
Seite 235 - And tolls its perfume on the passing air, Makes sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth A call to prayer. Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column Attest the feebleness of mortal hand, But to that fane, most catholic and solemn, Which God hath planned ; To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply ; Its choir the winds and waves — its organ thunder — Its dome the sky.
Seite 138 - Tis filled wherever thou dost tread, Nature's self's thy Ganymede. Thou dost drink, and dance, and sing, Happier than the happiest king. All the fields which thou dost see, All the plants, belong to thee ; All that summer hours produce, Fertile made with early juice; Man for thee does sow and plow...
Seite 117 - I'm not afraid You'll keep me from all harm." "What makes the lamb love Mary so?" The eager children cry "O, Mary loves the lamb, you know...
Seite 57 - O to abide in the desert with thee! Wild is thy lay and loud, Far in the downy cloud, Love gives it energy, love gave it birth. Where, on thy dewy wing, Where art thou journeying? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth.
Seite 57 - O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamer that heralds the day, Over the cloudlet dim, Over the rainbow's rim, Musical cherub, soar, singing, away ! Then, when the gloaming comes, Low in the heather blooms Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be ! Emblem of happiness, Blest is thy dwelling-place — Oh, to abide in the desert with thee ! JAMES HOGG.
Seite 138 - Thee Phoebus loves, and does inspire : Phoebus is himself thy sire. To thee of all things upon earth, Life is no longer than thy mirth. Happy insect ! happy thou, Dost neither age nor winter know : But when thou'st drunk, and danced, and sung Thy fill, the flowery leaves among, (Voluptuous, and wise withal. Epicurean animal !) Sated with thy summer feast, Thou retir'st to endless rest.
Seite 117 - Mary had a little lamb, Its fleece was white as snow, And everywhere that Mary went The lamb was sure to go; He followed her to school one day — That was against the rule. It made the children laugh and play To see a lamb at school.
Seite 15 - When, marshalled on the nightly plain, The glittering host bestud the sky, One Star alone, of all the train, Can fix the sinner's wandering eye. Hark ! hark ! to God the chorus breaks, From every host, from every gem ; But one alone the Saviour speaks, It is the star of Bethlehem.