The Literary souvenir; or, Cabinet of poetry and romance, ed. by A.A. Watts

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Alaric Alexander Watts
1830
 

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Page 56 - Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell : It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with -love's wound, And maidens call it Love-in-idleness.
Page 309 - AT evening time, let there be light; Life's little day draws near its close ; Around me fall the shades of night, The night of death, the grave's repose ; To crown my joys, to end my woes, At evening time, let there be light.
Page 115 - And their own free companionship on heathy commons wide. Hunger, and cold, and weariness, these are a frightful three ; But another curse there is beside, that darkens poverty, It may not have one thing to love, how small soe'er it be.
Page 345 - Fleet are ye as fleetest galley, Or pirate rover sent from Sallee ; Keener than the Tartar's arrow, Sport ye in your sea so narrow. Was the Sun himself your sire ? Were ye born of vital fire ? Or of the shade of golden flowers, Such as we fetch from Eastern bowers, To mock this murky clime of ours...
Page 306 - I never •was a favourite, My mother never smiled On me, with half the tenderness That blessed her fairer child : I've seen her kiss my sister's cheek, While fondled on her knee ; I've turned away, to hide my tears, There was no kiss for me!
Page 306 - I've seen her kiss my sister's cheek, While fondled on her knee ; I've turned away, to hide my tears, — There was no kiss for me ! And yet I strove to please with all My little store of sense ; I strove to please, and infancy Can rarely give offence ; But when my artless efforts met A cold ungentle check, I did not dare to throw myself In tears upon her neck ! How blessed are the beautiful ! Love watches o'er their birth ; Oh, beauty ! in my nursery I learned to know thy worth : For even there...
Page 164 - I brought her, one morning, a rose for her brow ; Where is she gone, where is she gone ? She told me such horrors were never worn now : And I — am left all alone ! But I saw her at night with a rose in her hair, And I guess who it came from — of course I don't care ! VOL.
Page 187 - Not all alone, — the whispering trees, The rippling brook, the starry sky, — Have each peculiar harmonies, To soothe, subdue, and sanctify : The low, sweet breath of evening's sigh, For thee hath oft a friendly tone, To lift thy grateful thoughts on high...
Page 307 - I strove to please, with all My little store of sense ; I strove to please, and infancy Can rarely give offence ; But when my artless efforts met A cold, ungentle check, I did not dare to throw myself In tears upon her neck. How blessed are the beautiful ! Love watches o'er their birth ; Oh, beauty ! in my nursery I learned to know thy worth, — For even there I often felt Forsaken and forlorn, And wished — for others wished it too — I never had been born.
Page 116 - What is the creature's life to us?" said he: "'twill buy us food. "Ay, though the children weep all day, and with down-drooping head Each does his small task mournfully, the hungry must be fed ; And that which has a price to bring must go to buy us bread." It went. Oh! parting has a pang the hardest heart to wring, But the tender soul of a little child with fervent love doth cling, With love that hath no feignings false, unto each gentle thing. Therefore...

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