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Page 45 - She is not afraid of the snow for her household: for all her household are clothed with scarlet.
Page 110 - Leave to the nightingale her shady wood; A privacy of glorious light is thine; Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more divine : Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home ! W.
Page 344 - A GREEN and silent spot, amid the hills, A small and silent dell ! O'er stiller place No singing sky-lark ever poised himself. The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope, Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on, All golden with the never-bloomless furze, Which now blooms most profusely : but the dell, Bathed by the mist, is fresh and delicate As vernal cornfield, or the unripe flax, When, through its half-transparent stalks, at eve, The level sunshine glimmers with green light.
Page 318 - Whoe'er has travelled life's dull round, Where'er his stages may have been, May sigh to think he still has found The warmest welcome at an inn.
Page 344 - tis a quiet spirit-healing nook! Which all, methinks, would love; but chiefly he, The humble man, who, in his youthful years, Knew just so much of folly, as had made His early manhood more securely wise!
Page 194 - JEolian harp, passive, takes the impression of the passing accident; or do these workings argue something within us above the trodden clod? I own myself partial to such proofs of those awful and important realities: a God that made all things, man's immaterial and immortal nature, and a world of weal or woe beyond death and the grave.
Page 115 - Could raise the daisy's purple bud ! Mould its green cup, its wiry stem, Its fringed border nicely spin, And cut the gold-embossed gem...
Page 343 - Whom call we gay? That honour has been long The boast of mere pretenders to the name. The innocent are gay — the lark is gay, That dries his feathers, saturate with dew, Beneath the rosy cloud, while yet the beams Of dayspring overshoot his humble nest.
Page 273 - TwAs a lovely thought to mark the hours, As they floated in light away, By the opening and the folding flowers, That laugh to the summer's day.
Page 110 - Ethereal Minstrel ! Pilgrim of the sky '. Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound ? Or while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground) Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will ; Those quivering wings composed, that music still...