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ARABELLA STUART art thou beautiful beneath bird bosom breast breath breeze bright bright land brightly brow cheek child dark dead death deep deep spirit dream dust dwell earth Eudora Ev'n fair fear floating flowers forest fount gaze gentle glad glance gleam gloom glory glow gone grave green grief hair hath haunted heart heaven holy hour human voice hush'd JOANNA BAILLIE joyous leaves light lip's lips lone look'd lov'd lyre mantle midst mother mournful murmur night o'er pale pass'd pour'd prayer press'd proud rest RHEIMS rich rill rose round Seem'd shadow silent silvery sleep smile soft solemn song soul sound spirit stood stream strong sunny sweet sword tears tender thee thine things thou art Thou hast Thou'rt thought thro tomb tone Twas unto voice wandering wave weep whisper wild wind woman's woods young youth
Page 262 - THE breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed ; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Page 168 - Through glowing orchards forth they peep, Each from its nook of leaves, And fearless there the lowly sleep, As the bird beneath their eaves.
Page 262 - Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came ; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame : Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear ; — They shook the depth of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Page 197 - O good old man ; how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat, but for promotion; And having that, do choke their service up Even with the having: it is not so with thee.
Page 288 - Good-night ;" By the smiling eye and the loving tone, Over thy life has the spell been thrown. And bless that gift ! — it hath gentle might, A guardian power and a guiding light. It hath led the freeman forth to stand In the...
Page 167 - THE stately homes of England, How beautiful they stand, Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land ! The deer across their greensward bound Through shade and sunny gleam, And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream.
Page 263 - Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea ; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free ! The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam, And the rocking pines of the forest roared, — This was their welcome home.
Page 298 - Oh, joyous birds, it hath still been so ! Through the halls of kings doth the tempest go ! But the huts of the hamlet lie still and deep, And the hills o'er their quiet a vigil keep. Say, what have ye found in the peasant's cot, Since last ye parted from that sweet spot...