The Emigrant: And Other Poems

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Rollo & Adam, 1861 - Blind tooled bindings - 236 pages

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Page 27 - I love my own country and race, Nor lightly I fled from them both, Yet who would remain in a place Where there's too many spoons for the broth ? The squire's preserving his game. He says that God gave it to him, And he'll banish the poor without shame, For touching a feather or limb. The Justice he feels very big, And boasts what the law can secure, But has two different laws in his wig, Which he keeps for the rich and the poor.
Page 95 - And the daisies decked 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 93 - GOD. 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 sky overhead, Of the green earth on which we tread, Of time and space, God of the worlds which Time conceals, God of the worlds which Death reveals To all our race, From out Thy wrath the earthquakes leap And shake the world's foundation deep, Till Nature groans: In agony the mountains call, And ocean...
Page 178 - 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 17 - For we'd been companions dear, And could not part without a tear, And Cartha had a mournful voice, She did not as of old rejoice ; And vale and mountain, flower and tree, Were looking sadly upon me ; For oh ! there is a nameless tie, A strange mysterious sympathy, Between us and material things, Which into close communion brings Our spirits with the unseen power, Which looks from every tree and flower.
Page 202 - We live in a rickety house, In a dirty dismal street, Where the naked hide from day, And thieves and drunkards meet. And pious folks with their tracts, When our dens they enter in, They point to our shirtless backs, As the fruits of beer and gin.
Page 116 - And churned hersel into silver white, Into bubbles green and gay, And rumbled round in her wild delight, 'Neath the rainbow's lovely ray ; And swirled, and sank, and rose to the brim. Like the snawdrift on the lee, And then in bells o" the rainbow's rim, She sang awa

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