The Dream: And Other Poems

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C.S. Francis & Company, 1845 - 260 pages
 

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Page 65 - But this is that which was spoken by the prophet Joel ; And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh : and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams: And on my servants and on my handmaidens I will pour out in those days of my Spirit; and they shall prophesy...
Page 66 - 1 bel paese e '1 loco ov' io fui giunto Da duo begli occhi, che legato m' hanno: E benedetto il primo dolce affanno Ch...
Page 67 - The poplars are fell'd: farewell to the shade, And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade; The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves, Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives.
Page 216 - The bleak wind whistles, snow-showers, far and near, Drift without echo to the whitening ground ; Autumn hath passed away, and, cold and drear, Winter stalks on, with frozen mantle bound. Yet still that prayer ascends : — • Oh ! laughingly My little brothers round the warm hearth crowd, Our home-fire blazes broad, and bright, and high, And the roof rings with voices glad and loud ; Spare me awhile ! raise up my drooping brow ! I am content to die — but, oh! not now!
Page 215 - FAINTER her slow step falls from day to day, Death's hand is heavy on her darkening brow ; Yet doth she fondly cling to earth, and say, " I am content to die, — but, oh ! not now ! — Not while the blossoms of the joyous spring Make the warm air such luxury to breathe ; Not while the birds such lays of gladness sing ; Not while bright flowers around my footsteps wreathe. Spare me, great God ! lift up my drooping brow ; I am content to die, — but, oh ! not now...
Page 173 - THOU, my merry love ; — bold in thy glee. Under the bough, or by the firelight dancing, With thy sweet temper, and thy spirit free, Didst come, as restless as a bird's wing glancing, Full of a wild and irrepressible mirth, Like a young sunbeam to the...
Page 67 - I last took a view Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew ; And now in the grass behold they are laid, And the tree is my seat, that once lent me a shade. The blackbird has fled to another retreat, Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat, And the scene where his melody charmed me before, Resounds, with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.
Page 217 - The spring is come again — the joyful spring ! Again the banks with clustering flowers are spread ; The wild bird dips upon its wanton wing : — The child of earth is numbered with the dead ! " Thee never more the sunshine shall awake, Beaming all redly through the lattice-pane ; The steps of friends thy slumbers may not break, Nor fond familiar voice arouse again ! Death's silent shadow veils thy darkened brow ; Why didst thou linger ? — thou art happier now...
Page 174 - Fair shoulders — curling lip — and dauntless brow — Fit for the world's strife, not for Poet's dreaming : And proud the lifting of thy stately head, And the firm bearing of thy conscious tread. Different...
Page 213 - WEEP not for him that dieth — For he sleeps, and is at rest; And the couch whereon he lieth Is the green earth's quiet breast : But weep for him who pineth On a far land's hateful shore, Who wearily declineth Where ye see his face no more ! n. Weep not for him that dieth...

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