Poems and Songs

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Rose Publishing Company, 1888 - Blind tooled bindings - 223 pages
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Page 34 - It will be long ere the poor Will learn their grog to shun While it's raiment, food and fire, And religion all in one.
Page 11 - And the daisy deck'd with pearls, Richer than the proudest Earls On their mantles wear. These thy preachers of the wild-wood, Keep they not the heart of childhood, Fresh within us still. Spite of all our life's sad story, There are gleams of Thee and glory, In the daffodil.
Page 15 - Tis her herald, the lark, That's singing afar in the blue. Its happy heart's rushing, In strains wildly gushing, That reach to the revelling earth, And sink through the deeps Of the soul, till it leaps Into raptures far deeper than mirth. All nature's in keeping The live streams are leaping And laughing in gladness along, The great hills are heaving, The dark clouds are leaving, The valleys have burst into song. We'll range through the dells Of the bonnie...
Page 13 - On the old gray stone, With the Bible in her lap. An oak is hanging above her head, And the burn is wimpling by; The primroses peep From their sylvan keep, And the lark is in the sky. Beneath that shade her children played, But they're all away with Death, And she sits alone On that old gray stone, To hear what the Spirit saith.
Page 9 - Hail thou great mysterious being, Thou the unseen yet all-seeing, To thee we call. How can a mortal sing thy praise, Or speak of all thy wondrous ways, God over all. God of the great old solemn woods, God of the desert solitudes, And trackless sea. God of the crowded city vast, God of the present and the past, Can man know thee ? God of the blue vault overhead, Of the green earth on which we tread, Of time and space.
Page 155 - Up! be stirring, be alive, Get upon a farm and thrive! He's a king upon a throne, Who has acres of his own! Honest labour thou would'st shirk — Thou art far too good to work; Such gentility's a fudge, True men all must toil and drudge.
Page 14 - Tho' no earthly friend is near. There's no one left to love her now, But the eye that never sleeps Looks on her in love From the heavens above, And with quiet joy she weeps; For she feels the balm of bliss is poured In her lone heart's deepest rut; And the widow lone On the old gray stone Has a peace the world knows not.
Page 63 - Twas foolish and vain, Yet, when shall we drink of Such glory again. Where hope first beguiled us, And spells o'er us cast, And told us her visions, Of beauty would last ; That earth was an Eden, Untainted with guile, And men were not destined To sorrow and toil. Where friendship first found us, And gave us her hand, And linked us for aye, to That...
Page 13 - Tis Sabbath morn, and a holy balm Drops down on the heart like dew, And the sunbeams gleam Like a blessed dream Afar on the mountains blue. Old Hannah's by her cottage door, In her faded widow's cap; She is sitting alone On the old gray stone, With the Bible in her lap.
Page 148 - And temples lit with crimson fires, And palaces of flame ! And domes on domes that gleam afar, Through many a gold and crimson bar, With azure overhead ; While forts, with towers on towers arise, As if they meant to scale the skies, With banner bloody red.

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