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art thou banners beauty beneath blue blue streams bosom bowers breast breath breeze bright bright land bright wave brow cheek child dark dead death deep deep soul dreams dust dwell earth Eolian ev'n faded fair falchion farewell father flowers fount gaze gentle glance gleam gloom glorious glory glow GLYNDWR'S gone grave green hath heard heart Heaven hills holy hour joyous Lake of Lucerne land leaves light lone look lyre midst mirth mother mountain mournful murmur night o'er pale pass'd proud rest rills rose round Sea-king shade shadow shining shore silent sleep slumber smile soft solemn song soul sound spear spirit stars stranger's heart stream sunny sunny brow sweet swell sword tears thee thine thou art thou hast thought tomb tone tree unto voice wakeful eye wanderer wave weep whispering wild wind woods wtnd Wtth young
Page 66 - 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 depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Page 67 - What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? — They sought a faith's pure shrine. Ay, call it holy ground, — The soil where first they trod! They have left unstained what there they found — Freedom to worship God ! Felicia Hemans.
Page 62 - England's dead. The warlike of the isles, The men of field and wave '• Are not the rocks their funeral piles, The seas and shores their grave ' Go, stranger ! track the deep, Free, free the white sail spread Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep, Where rest not England's dead.
Page 117 - As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow Sabean odours from the spicy shore Of Araby the Blest; with, such delay Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league Cheer'd with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles...
Page 93 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath. And stars to set — but all — Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death ! THE LOST PLEIAD.
Page 64 - Come forth, O ye children of gladness, come! Where the violets lie may be now your home. Ye of the rose-cheek and dew-bright eye, And the bounding footstep, to meet me, fly, With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay: Come forth to the sunshine: I may not stay!
Page 172 - Is it far away, in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold, Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand? Is it there, sweet mother! that better land? Not there, not there, my child ! Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!
Page 47 - O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown : Yet must thou hear a voice — Restore the dead ! Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee ! — Restore the dead, thou sea ! BRING FLOWERS.
Page 89 - O'er each fair sleeping brow, She had each folded flower in sight— Where are those dreamers now? One midst the forests of the West, By a dark stream, is laid ; The Indian knows his place of rest Far in the cedar shade. The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one, He lies where pearls lie deep, He was the loved of all, yet none O'er his low bed may weep. One...