Sebie Dorr; or, 'A dream of the past'.

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S.W. Partridge & Company, 1880 - 251 pages
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Page 9 - I have nought that is fair, saith he : Have nought but the bearded grain ? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again. He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves.
Page 77 - Half-way up the stairs it stands, And points and beckons with its hands From its case of massive oak, Like a monk, who, under his cloak, Crosses himself, and sighs, alas ! With sorrowful voice to all who pass, — " Forever — never ! Never — forever...
Page 230 - And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, That readest this brief psalm, As one by one thy hopes depart, Be resolute and calm. O fear not in a world like this, And thou shalt know ere long, Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong.
Page 9 - They shall all bloom in fields of light, Transplanted by my care, And saints, upon their garments white, These sacred blossoms wear." And the mother gave, in tears and pain, The flowers she most did love ; She knew she should find them all again In the fields of light above. Oh, not in cruelty, not in wrath, The Reaper came that day ; 'Twas an angel visited the green earth, And took the flowers away.
Page 27 - MAIDEN ! with the meek, brown eyes, In whose orbs a shadow lies Like the dusk in evening skies ! Thou whose locks outshine the sun, Golden tresses, wreathed in one. As the braided streamlets run...
Page 38 - Sad before her leaned the boy, ' Goldilocks that I love well, Happy creature fair and coy, Think o' me, sweet Amabel.' Goldilocks she shook apart, Looked with doubtful, doubtful eyes, Like a blossom in her heart, Opened out her first surprise. As a gloriole sign o' grace, Goldilocks, ah fall and flow, On the blooming, childlike face, Dimple, dimple, come and go. Give her time ; on grass and sky Let her gaze if she be fain, As they looked ere he drew nigh, They will never look again. Ah...
Page 111 - Nor long summer bide so late; And I could grow on like the foxglove and aster, For some things are ill to wait. I wait for the day when dear hearts shall discover, While dear hands are laid on my head: "The child is a woman, the book may close over. For all the lessons are said.

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