The Ladies' wreath: a selection from the female poetic writers of England and America : with original notices and notes : prepared especially for young ladies : a gift book for all seasons
Marsh, Capen & Lyon, 1837 - Literary Criticism - 408 pages
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Barry Cornwall beauty Bernard Barton bird blessed bloom blossoms bosom bower breast breath bright brow CAROLINE BOWLES charms cheek child childhood clouds cold dark dear death deep doth dreams earth earthly fade fair fancy father fear feel FELICIA HEMANS flowers fond gaze Genie genius gentle glow gone grace hand happy hath hear heart heaven holy hope hour Joanna Baillie life's light lips literary lonely look lute lyre Mary Howitt Mary Mitford mind mirth Mont Blanc mother muse ne'er neath never night o'er poems poetess poetry prayer pure rest Rienzi rose round shade sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit spring stars stranger's heart stream sweet tears tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought tone tree twas voice weary weep Whippoorwill wild winds wings woman words young youth
Page 19 - 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 20 - Why had they come to wither there, Away from their childhood's land? There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth ; There was manhood's brow, serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth. 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.
Page 347 - She dwells with Beauty — Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, Turning to Poison while the bee-mouth sips: Ay, in the very temple of Delight Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine, Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine; His soul shall taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
Page 24 - 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.
Page 115 - DOWN in a green and shady bed, A modest violet grew, Its stalk was bent, it hung its head, As if to hide from view.
Page 36 - 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.
Page 164 - I've always felt for you? I have within my pantry good store of all that's nice; I'm sure you're very welcome — will you please to take a slice ? " " Oh, no, no," said the little fly, " kind sir, that cannot be ; I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see.
Page 58 - How the lone paths retrace where thou wert playing So late, along the mountains, at my side ? And I, in joyous pride, By every place of flowers my course delaying Wove, e'en as pearls, the lilies round thy hair, Beholding thee so fair!
Page 55 - ... 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. Away from the dwellings of care-worn men, The waters are sparkling in grove and glen ! Away from the chamber and sullen hearth, ( The young leaves are dancing in breezy mirth ! Their light stems thrill to the wild-wood strains, And youth is abroad in my green domains...