Town Lyrics, and Other Poems ...D. Bogue, 1848 - 102 pages |
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Apennines beauty behold beneath bird blood boughs breast breath calm CHARLES MACKAY CHOLERA coin is spurious Dance dark dear DEATH BANQUET divine doleful river dream Ducos earth ebb and flow Eveleen evermore eyes fair fame FLEET STREET FLOATING STRAW flowers Follow your leader frown GIRONDINS gold grey owl screeched-tu guillotine Havering-atte-Bower heart heaven hill hopes JOHN LITTLEJOHN LASOURCE light lips live look lord lordly maid moorlands morning mountain mustard seed NINE BATHERS o'er owl screeched-tu wheet Paris perchance poor quoth Baron Braemar rain rich Robespierre Rolling in ebb ruddy scorn shine SILLERY sings sleep smile song sorrow soul stone stream STREET sunshine sweet tears teeming thee thine thou art thought toil TOWN LYRICS tread trees replying truth tu whoo Valazé VERGNIAUD voice WATER TARANTELLA waves weep whoo winds were sighing wine wise woods wretched
Popular passages
Page 32 - And knowledge pour, From shore to shore, Light on the eyes of mental blindness. All slavery, warfare, lies, and wrongs, All vice and crime, might die together ; And wine and corn, To each man born, Be free as warmth in summer weather. The meanest wretch that ever trod, The deepest sunk in guilt and sorrow, Might stand erect In self-respect, And share the teeming world to-morrow. What might be done? This might be done, And more than this, my suffering brother — More than the tongue E'er said or...
Page 31 - WHAT might be done if men were wise— What glorious deeds, my suffering brother, Would they unite, In love and right, And cease their scorn of one another...
Page 20 - When told that kings had a right divine, And that the people were herds of swine, That nobles alone were fit to rule, That the poor were unimproved by school, That ceaseless toil was the proper fate Of all but the wealthy and the great, John shook his head, and said, with a frown, " The coin is spurious, nail it down...
Page 5 - Ever o'er his tattered curtain, Nightly looking, I could scan, Aye inditing, Writing — writing, The pale figure of a man ; Still discern behind him fall The same shadow on the wall. Far beyond the murky...
Page 7 - I missed him ; Still might evening twilight fall, But no taper lit his lattice — Lay no shadow on his wall. In the winter of his seasons, In the midnight of his day, 'Mid his writing, And inditing, Death had beckoned him away — Ere the sentence he had planned Found completion at his hand.
Page 95 - Those who were bitten, generally fell into a state of melancholy, and appeared to be stupefied, and scarcely in possession of their senses. This condition was, in many cases, united with so great a sensibility to music, that at the very first tones of their favourite melodies they sprang up, shouting for joy, and danced on without intermission, until they sank to the ground exhausted and almost lifeless.
Page 19 - JOHN LITTLEJOHN was stanch and strong, Upright and downright, scorning wrong ; He gave good weight, and paid his way, He thought for himself, and he said his say. Whenever a rascal strove to pass, Instead of silver, money of brass, He took his hammer, and said, with a frown, " The coin is spurious, nail it down.
Page 6 - ve asked, debating vainly In the silence of my mind, What the services he rendered To his country or his kind ; Whether tones of ancient music, Or the sound of modern gong, Wisdom holy, Humors lowly, Sermon, essay, novel, song, Or philosophy sublime, Filled the measure of his time.
Page 20 - When told that events might justify A false and crooked policy, That a decent hope of future good Might excuse departure from rectitude, That a lie, if white, was a small offence, To be forgiven by men of sense, "Nay, nay" said John, with a sigh and frown, " The coin is spurious, nail it down...
Page 54 - I'll breathe the buxom mountain air, Feed vision upon dyes and hues That from the hill-top interfuse, White rocks, and lichens born of spray, Dark heather tufts, and mosses grey, Green grass, blue sky, and boulders brown, With amber waters glistening down, And early flowers blue, white, and pink, That fringe with beauty all the brink.