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Anacreon ancient appears arms beam beauty believe beneath bliss bloom bowers breath bright brow called charm cold dark dear death deep divine dream drop earth epigram eyes fair fall fancy feel fire flame flowers give given glory glow gold golden grace hand hath head heart heaven hope hour King kiss land leave light lips live look Lord lost maid meet mind morning nature never night o'er once pass Persian poet pure rest rose round seems shade shed shine side sigh sleep smile soft song soon soul sound spirit spring star sweet tears tell thee thine thou thought true turn Twas warm wave weep wild wind wing young youth
Page 484 - When I remember all The friends, so linked together, I've seen around me fall, Like leaves in wintry weather; I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands "dead, And all but he departed!
Page 194 - THERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet ; Oh ! the last rays of feeling and life must depart, Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart.
Page 310 - Its glow by day, its smile by night, Are but reflections caught from thee. Where'er we turn, thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are thine. When day, with farewell beam, delays Among the opening clouds of even, And we can almost think we gaze Through golden vistas into heaven — Those hues, that make the sun's decline So soft, so radiant, Lord ! are thine.
Page 201 - Like fairy-gifts fading away, Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art, Let thy loveliness fade as it will. And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart Would entwine itself verdantly still.
Page 177 - Rapids are near and the daylight's past. Why should we yet our sail unfurl ? There is not a breath the blue wave to curl. But, when the wind blows off the shore, Oh ! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near and the daylight's past. Utawas' tide ! this trembling moon Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
Page 213 - He had lived for his love — for his country he died, They were all that to life had entwined him — Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, Nor long will his love stay behind him...
Page 351 - There's a bower of roses by BENDEMEER'S§ stream, And the nightingale sings round it all the day long ; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song.
Page 213 - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps. And lovers around her are sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying.