Verse

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H. W. Dutton and Son, 1862 - American poetry - 144 pages
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Page 17 - And ever and ever ye yield our breath — Till the mirror is dry, and images death : To live Is to give. He is dead, whose hand is not opened wide To help the need of a human brother ; He doubles the life of his life-long ride, Who gives his fortunate place to another ; And a thousand million lives are his Who carries the world in his sympathies : To deny Is to die. Throw gold to the far-dispersing wave, And your ships sail home with tons of treasure ; Care not for comfort; all hardships brave, And...
Page 16 - His warmth he squanders on summits cold, His wealth on the homes of want and sorrow. To withhold his largess of precious light Is to bury himself in eternal night : To give Is to live. The flower shines not for itself at all ; Its joy is the joy it freely diffuses ; Of beauty and balm it is prodigal, And it lives in the life it sweetly loses.
Page 104 - EACH saddened face is gone, and tearful eye, Of mother, brother, and of sisters fair ; With ghostly sound their distant footfalls die Through whispering hall, and up the rustling stair. In yonder room the newly dead doth sleep ; Begin we thus, my friend, our watch to keep. And now both feed the fire and trim the lamp; Pass cheerly, if we can, the slow-paced hours ; For all without is cold, and drear, and damp, And the wide air with storm and darkness lours ; Pass cheerly, if we may, the livelong...
Page 16 - To give Is to live. The flower shines not for itself at all: Its joy is the joy it freely diffuses ; Of beauty and balm it is prodigal, And it lives in the life it sweetly loses. No choice for the rose but glory or doom, — To exhale or smother, to wither or bloom : To deny IS to die.
Page 92 - Quick — quick the clicking shuttles flew, And slowly up the web was rolled, Sprinkled with purple, red and blue, And strewed with stars of yellow gold; The quaint device came forth so true, It seemed a work of magic power, As if by force of Nature grew Each imaged leaf and figured flower ! I sat within a silent room, While evening shadows deepened round, And thought that life...
Page 106 - She sweetly sleeps, her lips and eyelids sealed ; No ruby jewel heaves upon her breast, With her quick breath now hidden, now revealed, As setting stars long tremble in the west; But white and still as drifts of moonlit snow Her folded cerements and her flushless brow. Oh there is beauty in the winter moon, And beauty in the brilliant summer flower, And in the liquid eye and luring tone Of radiant Love's and rosy Laughter's hour; But where is beauty, in this blooming world, Like death upon a maiden's...
Page 93 - And all events of changing years That lend their colors to our life, Though oft their memory disappears Amid our pleasures and our strife, Are added fibres to the warp, And here and there, they will be seen, Dyed deep in joy or sorrows sharp — For we are all that we have been ! The loves and hopes of youthful hours, Though buried in oblivion deep, Like hidden threads in woven flowers Upon the web will start from sleep. And one loved face we sometimes find Pictured there with memories rife, —...
Page 16 - The flower shines not for itself at all, Its joy is the joy it freely diffuses; Of beauty and balm it is prodigal, And it lives in the life it sweetly loses. No choice for the rose but glory or doom — To exhale or smother, to wither or bloom : To deny Is to die. The seas lend silvery rain to the land, The land its sapphire streams to the ocean ; The heart sends blood to the brain of command, The brain to the heart its lightning motion : And ever and ever we yield our breath, Till the mirror is...
Page 105 - The bathing liquid scents the chilly room ; How spectral white are shroud and veiling lace On yonder side-board, in the fearful gloom ! Take off the muffler from the sleeper's face : — You spoke, my friend, of sunken cheek and eye — Ah what a. form of beauty here doth lie ! Never hath Art, from purest wax or stone, So fair an image and so lustrous wrought ; It is as if a beam from heaven had shown A weary angel in sweet slumber caught ! — The smiling lip, the warmly tinted cheek, And all so...
Page 92 - And each one played a lofty loom, With ceaseless and with noisy stir ; Warp and roller, spools and reels — It was a mazy scene to view, While slow revolved the groaning wheels, And fast the clashing shuttles flew. Unnumbered threads of brilliant dyes, From beam to beam all closely drawn, Seemed dipt in hues of sunset skies, Or steeped in tints of rosy dawn, — Or...

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