The Birth-day: A Poem, in Three Parts : to which are Added, Occasional Verses

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Wiley and Putnam, 1845 - Poetry - 179 pages

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Page 141 - Tread softly — bow the head ; In reverent silence bow ; No passing bell doth toll, Yet an immortal soul Is passing now. Stranger ! however great, With lowly reverence bow; There 's one in that poor shed. One by that paltry bed, Greater than thou. Beneath that beggar's roof, Lo ! .Death doth keep his state; Enter — no crowds attend; Enter— no guards defend This palace gate. That pavement, damp and cold. No smiling courtiers. tread; One silent...
Page 116 - t is ever thus, with all that 's best below — The dearest — noblest — loveliest — are always first to go ; The bird that sings the sweetest ! — the pine that crowns the rock ; The glory of the garden ! —
Page 134 - Gins the dusky cloud to break ; — Here and there a glittering thread Lights the ringlets, dark and dead, — Glittering light ! — but pale and cold — Glittering thread ! — but not of gold. Silent warning ! silvery streak ! Not unheeded dost thou speak. Not with feelings light and vain — Not with fond regretful pain, Look I on the token sent To declare the day far spent...
Page 151 - I will not wish thee grandeur — I will not wish thee wealth. — But only a contented heart, Peace — competence — and health — Fond friends to love thee dearly, And honest friends to chide, And faithful ones to cleave to thee, Whatever may betide. And now, my little Mary ! If better things remain, Unheeded in my blindness, Unnoticed in my strain, I'll snm them up succinctly, In " English undefiled," My Mother tongue's best benison, — God bless thee — precious Child ! THE HEDGEHOG.
Page 109 - How happily, how happily the flowers die away! Oh! could we but return to earth as easily as they ; Just live a life of sunshine, of innocence, and bloom, Then drop without decrepitude or pain into the tomb. The gay and glorious creatures! " they neither toil nor spin,
Page 80 - And the birds in the adjoining grove seemed to have a friendly contention with an echo, whose dead voice seemed to live in a hollow tree, near to the brow of that primrose hill.
Page 130 - Rest ye — set down the bier, One he loved dwelleth here. Let the dead lie A moment that door beside, Wont to fly open wide Ere he drew nigh. Hearken ! — he speaketh yet...
Page 141 - That pavement, damp and cold, no smiling courtiers tread ; one silent woman stands, lifting with meagre hands, a dying head.
Page 115 - tis ever thus, that when the poor heart clings With all its finest tendrils, with all its flexile rings, That goodly thing it cleaveth to, so fondly and so fast, Is struck to earth by lightning, or shattered by the blast.
Page 173 - I ween, from all but th' olden taint, Which only Jesu's blood can wash away : And holy, as the life of holiest saint, Was his, that good Dominican's, who fed His master's lambs, with more than daily bread. The Children's custom, while that pious man Fulfilled the various duties of his state, Within the spacious church, as Sacristan, Was on the altar steps to sit and wait, Nestling together ('twas a lovely sight!) Like the young turtle doves of Hebrew rite.

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